


Realms

by cat_77



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A portal has opened in Gaius’ rooms between Merlin’s realm and one very much like it, only on the other side magic was never banned and can be used freely without pain of death.  Needless to say, Merlin has fallen through this portal more than once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realms

**Author's Note:**

> OMG, it’s done! Oh-so-many thanks to the awesome threnodyjones for the beta job on this monster, and to all the excellent cheerleaders over at camelot_fleet for their support as I tried to wrap this up for the Finish-a-thon. This ended up far longer than originally intended, but tells the tale I wanted to get out, so I hope people are willing to give it a chance.
> 
> Relationships are actually pre-slash Arthur/Merlin and a tiny bit of Gwen/Lancelot, but I could not get the AO3 header to fully work that way.
> 
>  _Suaimhneas_ = Irish for quiet, peaceful.

The portal was back again. It was not as if it ever truly went away, but there were times it grew, both in size and in intensity. Merlin had carefully marked out the outermost boundary of the thing, adding a good extra arms-length worth of room around it for safety’s sake, and warned Gaius to avoid it. This would be why Gaius had moved the most important of his equipment to the far side of the room, leaving the area wide and open to avoid. This would be why it was so obvious to Merlin that someone had been there.

Over half of the circle was gone, swept up into a nice neat little pile. A pile that was next to a broom half-disappeared into the ether.

Merlin hung his head and cursed in a way that would have done the filthiest guard proud. He prodded the broom handle with his boot and watched the golden ripples ebb and flow. Gaius swore he did not see a thing but, to Merlin, they were as bright as a torch in the underbelly of the castle, and about as welcome. Without them, he would never know where the damned this was and would have continued to walk through it again and again.

He cursed again as the sound of booted footsteps behind him reminded him both of what he was supposed to be doing, and just who was behind him. Arthur was prattling on about something, and Merlin was certain it was important, at least to the prince, but his eyes were focused on the footsteps in the dust. They were small and delicate like the slippers one of the chambermaids would wear, and they disappeared mid-step exactly where the curtain to the portal lay.

He turned in time to see Arthur enter the room, a questioning look upon his face at the new layout. He did not have time for explanations; there was no telling how long the maid had been gone. Arthur opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but Merlin cut him off with, “Promise me you won’t cross this line?”

“What?” Arthur asked, truly confused, as Merlin poured a pitcher of water along where the rest of the circle should have been, the droplets disappearing at the vale to become a precise demarcation.

“Do you trust me?” Merlin tried. Fifty heartbeats, he knew how long that was.

“As much as any man can trust an idiot,” Arthur conceded. The words were light, the expression was not.

“Then promise me,” Merlin said, already taking a step backwards. He could feel the tingle along his spine, his magic try to reach out for the source of power.

“Fine, I promise,” Arthur huffed like a put upon man.

“Good,” Merlin smiled, and stepped through to the other side.

It was, as always, a disorientating journey. He emerged on the other side to the flickering of torches and a trio of armed guards. The first one, a man he now knew as Noel, stepped forward. “Master Emrys?” he asked. At Merlin’s nod of confirmation, he shouted, “He has returned!”

A knight appeared in the doorway to the room that would have been Gaius’, had things truly been identical in this realm. “Come this way,” James bade, and Merlin dutifully followed.

“I can’t stay long,” he warned. He thought of Arthur standing at the edge of the portal, of his lack of patience mixed with his bullheadedness and need to protect. He took all of these things into account and determined exactly how long he had before this realm had to deal with one royal prat before they were anywhere near ready to do so.

“The woman you sent through, is she to serve as your emissary?” James asked as they hurried along the corridor.

Merlin shook his head. “Not exactly,” he sighed. It would have been too much to ask that she appeared at the changing of the guards, or simply not at all.

“Then we shall have her killed at once,” James nodded.

“No!” Merlin exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. “She’s not an enemy, just a mistake. She didn’t know where the portal was and crossed it in error. She’s a servant, nothing more.”

James turned to face him, a slight smirk upon his features. “You too claimed to be but a servant, Master Emrys, and look how that turned out.”

Okay, so there was that. James did have a point. Then again, Merlin actually had some stature and say in this realm, and there was a chance he could actually free whichever innocent was unlucky enough to come here.

They resumed walking, James leading the way though Merlin was fairly certain where they were going. “How long has she been here?” he asked when they paused outside the heavy oak doors.

“Long enough to wear on the ears,” James replied which was not truly an answer, but Merlin had learned to take what he could get.

With a nod the two guards at the door pushed it open, revealing what Merlin had come to think of as the Holding Chamber. Not quite the dungeons, and not quite luxury accommodations, to say the least. He peered in to see a mop of red curls bowed down across a rather dusty dress. Pale wrists were exposed and chained to a heavy loop set into the wall. It did not look like she had been moved yet, so it must have not been that long after all. Also, as James had warned, the girl was sobbing uncontrollably. The only words Merlin could make out were a mantra of, “I didn’t know!” and “Please, set me free!”

“Marie?” he asked, crouching down to her level.

Startled green eyes peered up at him through a knot of curls. “You know me? You know who I am?” she gasped.

He nodded and promised, “It’s me, Merlin.”

“Merlin!” she exclaimed. She threw her arms out as if to cling to him, but was stopped by the chains that held her in place. Instantly, two of the guards had their swords out, James attempting to pull Merlin back from what he apparently perceived to be a risk.

“It’s okay,” Merlin tried as he pushed back through to the girl. She couldn’t be more than fourteen and was about as much of a threat as three-day-old kitten.

“Really, one would think they did not trust my work,” a new voice rang against the stone. Merlin looked up as Morgana entered, long cloak wrapped around her to ward off the minimal chill of the room. He did not need to ask how she knew he was here. “I enchanted those chains myself. No one, save perhaps you, should be able to free themselves.”

“Our apologies, my Lady,” James said, head hung in contrition.

Morgana waved it off as unimportant. “Merlin,” she smiled in greeting instead, waiting for him to rise to wrap her own arms around him. “It’s been too long. I was beginning to think you were avoiding us.”

The thought had crossed his mind, but he was finding Fate had other opinions on the matter. “Not so long,” he replied, pulling back to take a look at her. She looked well, healthy and hale and not at all like the Morgana he had last seen in his own realm.

“And I supposed your stay will be short yet again?” she mock sighed.

He nodded tightly. “I only came as it appeared someone had crossed over who should not. I need to retrieve her before she goes amiss.”

“My mother,” Marie wailed from her spot on the floor. “She will be furious with me! Oh, Merlin, how do I explain this to her?”

Morgana waved her hand and the noise stopped, the guards breathing as much of a sigh of relief as she did herself. “I thought we were done with the caterwauling,” she rolled her eyes. On the floor, Marie’s mouth still moved, though it was as if she was trying to figure out why no sound would come out.

“She’s an innocent, Morgana,” Merlin advised. “She has no business here and you must admit, an unexpected journey to another realm can be quite stressful.”

“I’ve only been to your side once,” Morgana insisted, though she looked slightly contrite. “I could go nowhere, had to hide, and received no respect as to my rank. Well, as to my rank here,” she corrected at Merlin’s raised eyebrow.

“I’ve told you before...” Merlin started.

“Things are different there. Yes, I remember,” Morgana finished for him. She gazed down at the heap on the floor. “So what is she then? There’s not much to her, so I assumed she was not sent by you. What skills does she have?”

Merlin looked down to Marie’s tearstained face and shrugged. “None really, unless you want your rooms cleaned thoroughly, and even then it will be by hand and broom and not by power like you are accustomed to.”

Morgana made a face. “How mundane. Why did she even cross over then?”

“It was an accident,” Merlin said for what felt like the hundredth time.

He knew Morgana’s next question before she even asked it, “Then why come to save her?”

“She’s an innocent. She got caught up in this simply by trying to do her job. She’s no threat to you, nor is she a threat to the crown,” he explained. “She just wants to get home to her mother. You can’t fault her that, can you?”

Morgana’s shoulders slumped. “No, I cannot,” she agreed. Merlin could tell she was willing to release her when she added, “Can I assume she will cause you grief should she return and mention her journey?”

Merlin snorted at the understatement. He wondered if it would be possible to toss her at Arthur and cross back over with enough time to close the portal behind him. Then again, he was forced to wonder if they had figured out a way to close the portal at all on this side as he had not on his own. “It’s possible,” he conceded. “But if I don’t return with her soon, we will have another problem on our hands all together.”

“Someone saw you cross,” Morgana guessed. “Can they be trusted?”

“To a reasonable amount,” Merlin answered. He was still counting heartbeats and knew they were already cutting it close.

“Then let me handle the girl to make things a bit easier on you,” Morgana insisted. Her knowledge of the mind was incredible in relation to his. He could control the elements themselves, bend the world to his whims if need be, but she could bend the mind and will one to remember anything she so chose. Well, within reason – her powers did not work on him, but she assured him he was one of the rare exceptions.

He nodded his consent and watched Marie’s eyes grew wide in fear, certain he had just betrayed her. A whispered breath and a glow of gold and those eyes drifted closed, the shackles around her wrists releasing her to slump against the floor.

Morgana snapped her fingers and James picked up the unconscious Marie, cradled her to his chest as the guards opened the door back into the corridor. “I assume time is of the essence?” James guessed.

“Unless you want magic despising royalty at your doorstep, challenging everyone to duels until something truly unfortunate happens, then yes,” Merlin said less than cheerfully. He turned back to Morgana and added, “Do pass on my regards and apologies for so brief of stay?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “Though you know the crown welcomes you at any time,” she smiled mischievously.

He felt himself blush as he offered a brief bow, even though he knew both actions were entirely unnecessary. A few hustled footsteps later and he was back on his way to the portal. James carefully transferred the still sleeping Marie to Merlin as he stood just outside of the shimmering curtain. “Hopefully you will not wait too long to return, we do miss your presence,” he told him.

Merlin smiled, half in apology and half in agreement. The other realm was so much a different place, a place where magic still ran free and he knew he was safe and would never be persecuted. It was, however, not home, not the place where his destiny awaited. With a determined resolve, he took the first step back through into nothingness, felt the world bend around him, felt his own mind shift and stretch and perhaps even scream. Another breath, and he stepped back out into Gaius’ workroom, still dizzy enough that the plain wood and glass seemed to spin around him.

He blinked to right himself, not at all surprised to see Arthur looking nearly as he left him, surprise writ across his face, likely both from Merlin’s disappearance and his unexpected guest upon his return. He managed a few stumbling steps forward, enough to cross the boundary he had marked out fully, before Arthur strode forward purposefully, righted Merlin and helped him hold onto Marie until the prince himself could take her from his arms.

Arthur laid her out on Gaius’ workbench and quickly checked her over for injuries, though Merlin knew he would find none. Morgana was good at what she did; both of them were. Even though he was still a bit disorientated himself, he knew well enough to wait for the questioning to begin, so he stood his ground until Arthur turned and levelled him with a look Merlin knew would come in handy in his role as the future king.

“Everything. Now,” Arthur demanded, crossing his arms in front of him.

Merlin had a perfect explanation for him, really he did. It was concise and precise and detailed with necessary points and everything. However, he took a slight step to the side to try to steady his wobbly stance, and was quickly reminded as to why one did not make the journey twice in so short a time. The dizziness surged and he soon found himself gently guided to the other workbench, a concerned, yet perturbed, Arthur looming over him.

“Sorry,” he said with a wave of his hand towards the portal. “One trip is doable, but two rather takes it out of you.” He took the cup of water offered to him and dutifully sipped, though it did nothing but wet his throat.

Arthur was still waiting, and even doing so with what amounted to patience for him, but asked, “So I take it you have done this disappearing act before?” His eyes were shaded, as if willing himself not to lash out at such a thing being hidden from him.

“A few times,” Merlin admitted. “Though mainly by accident.” He set the cup of water to the side and focused on Arthur, knowing he had one chance to make him believe what he was about to say, and that sounding like a drunken country boy would probably not help matters along. “It’s a portal to a world very much like ours, but with a few notable differences. It appeared a few weeks ago and we have yet to determine why, much less how to close it. I marked out the area in hopes it could be avoided until we found a way to shut it completely.”

“It sounds an awful lot like sorcery,” Arthur commented less than mildly.

Merlin fought not to sigh. That was not the half of it. “The books we have been referencing to try to close it, both here and on the other side, do have several references to magic,” he admitted. Before Arthur could comment, he added, “But they were the only thing we could find with any hints at all as to what the blasted thing is in the first place.”

“And you told no one because?” Arthur prompted.

Merlin scratched his head. Yeah, he knew that one would come back at him. “The physician and his assistant, already accused of magic once, already using herbs and medicines to cure things that only spells were capable of until recently suddenly having a magic vortex in the middle of their room? Somehow, I did not think that would go over well in a place where magic users are condemned to death.”

Arthur swallowed, a sign Merlin’s point had been made. “And you are certain you did not cast some sort of summoning spell in your sleep? It’s awful close to your room, Merlin,” Arthur teased, an obvious attempt at levity after the image of his friend burned for witchcraft.

Merlin blinked. It was technically possible, especially given how tired he had been lately. Who knew what he did when he was asleep at this point? He was fairly certain he was innocent in this matter, however, and declared himself thus. “To the best of my knowledge, I have had nothing to do with bringing this thing here or keeping it open. I’ve just been trying to make sure no one else got sucked in.”

“Well, someone did slip through, and now we must deal with the consequences,” Arthur told him archly. The attitude was cut with a sigh and the prince rubbing his brow before he asked, “What do we do with her? How much did she see and how much will she remember?”

Merlin took another sip of the water. The dizziness was still there, but it was beginning to fade. “I have been assured she will not remember a thing about the other realm,” he shrugged not knowing what else to say. Either Morgana’s magic worked, or he was well and truly buggered.

“And you trust the person who assured you thus?” Arthur questioned.

Merlin did not even need to think about the answer to that and so he readily nodded. Morgana, the Morgana of that realm that was, had proved herself both the loyal friend and a damned good sorceress. He would swear by her word, and already had previously.

Arthur made a face. “And just who is this mysterious person you put your faith in so blindly?”

Merlin cleared his throat – no amount of water was going to help this time. “Well,” he hedged. “That’s where things get complicated.”

He was saved from Arthur’s ire by Marie beginning to stir. Arthur shot him a look to let him know the discussion was far from over, but dutifully helped the young maid sit up. She was disoriented and confused, and clearly embarrassed when she realized the prince himself was at her side. “Sire!” she rushed, dipping her head in reverence only to nearly fall sideways from what looked to be a round of dizziness all her own.

“Shh,” Arthur soothed, righting her once more. “How do you feel?”

“I...” she started, only to trail off. She glanced around the room and her eyes widened in surprise. “I have no idea how I got here,” she admitted, a blush staining her fair cheeks.

“You were cleaning,” Merlin supplied, gesturing to the broom that still lay on the floor nearby.

“Yes,” she nodded as if the mere suggestion was a surety in her mind. “I was cleaning, and then I was here. I really do not know what happened, sire.”

“Neither do I,” Arthur replied. He glared over at Merlin, and Merlin knew how much it hurt the prince to lie, even through omission. Arthur had phrased his comment carefully – he did not know at this time, but as soon as Marie was seen off to her mother, he most certainly would demand the full story.

Merlin pushed that to the side for now, the blind panic could come later. He turned to Marie and offered, “There was a sign on the door that things were not to be disturbed. The physician’s quarters can have a great many dangers that are best left alone.”

She hung her head, rightfully chided. “I had come to ask for some of the tea for headaches, and saw the mess on the floor,” she explained, motioning to where the broom lay amongst the dirt and markings. Merlin had to give Morgana credit for working within the girl’s own memories. “I thought I could help, but must have fallen. I don’t read, sire, never been taught. I know now to leave well enough alone. If there’s words on the door, I’ll either walk away or ask someone to read them for me. I’m sorry for trouble, sire.”

“No trouble,” Arthur assured her. He held out a hand and she bashfully accepted his assistance to stand. “We’ll see that you get to your mother and that you have the day to rest.”

Merlin pushed himself to his feet and shuffled over to one of the shelves. “Let me get you the tea,” he offered. “It will help your head and help you to sleep.” He pulled out the drawer of herbs he would needed and placed them in a tiny pouch. He gave her a fair sized dose, and slipped in just enough chamomile to hopefully send her into a peaceful slumber for the rest of the day.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, accepting both the pouch and her broom. “My head is right bleating at me right now. It is much appreciated.”

Merlin nodded and let Arthur escort her out to the hallway. The prince flagged down a guard and had him bring the girl home, hopefully avoiding any further trouble along the way. Merlin debated trying a bit of the tea for himself, and the ache in his head he knew he’d have by the time Arthur was done with him, and had gone so far as to let his fingers drift towards the drawer again when the prince came storming back into the room, stopping only to lock the door behind him.

“Start talking and do not even think of taking sleeping herbs to get out of this,” Arthur demanded as he crossed his arms in front of him.

Merlin sighed and used the hand that had been nearly at the drawer to scrub through his hair instead. He gestured for Arthur to sit, but the prince did not immediately do so. With another sigh, Merlin appropriated the comfortable rocking chair by the hearth for himself and got ready to tell his tale.

“It’s going to sound a lot like magic, but it doesn’t appear to be anything we did on our side,” he warned to start with. He knew there was a very large possibility that he would be ending his day in a cell over this, if his trip to the chopping block was not expedited to the evening’s entertainment, but figured a fair warning might help put things off, at least for a bit.

“I’m not blaming anyone, yet,” Arthur told him, his posture relaxing slightly. “I just need you to tell me the truth about this... portal, and whether or not it is a danger to the people.” There was a guarded look to his eyes, as if he fully expected Merlin to be to blame, magic or no, but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

There was no way Merlin was about to out himself as a sorcerer, not yet. He had no idea how Arthur would take it and would really rather not die horrifically before sorting out this portal business. There was no telling what those on the other side would do if the portal was still open and he did not return with an explanation for any disappearance.

He leaned back in the chair and began his tale, hoping Arthur did not notice him brush over some things and clear out omit others. “The portal first appeared nearly three weeks ago. I awoke to a crash and came out here to find someone sprawled about the floor and a fading shimmer from the curtain at her feet.”

“Someone crossed through and you did not see this as a threat?” Arthur questioned.

Merlin could see his temper rising again and rushed to try to cut it off at the pass. “I told you things were very similar there. This person, this woman, is someone I knew from here. It took me a while to figure out both that she was not the same woman, and that she was from far away from here.”

“And yet you trusted her?” Arthur asked doubtingly.

Merlin smiled ruefully. “Not at first,” he admitted. “At first I thought she was going to try to kill me, but it turns out she did not even recognise me.” He thought back to a disoriented Morgana, how she was willing to protect herself, yet knew enough to know she needed more information about where she was and who she was with.

“Why would anyone want to kill you? Other than me, of course,” Arthur asked. There was a hint of a smirk at his words, but not enough for Merlin to think he was truly teasing.

He did not have the time nor the inclination to explain his role in Morgana’s disappearance with Morgause. “Long story that will probably come out some time but hopefully not today,” he said far too quickly to avoid suspicion. Before Arthur could get stuck on that, however, he continued, “So this woman and I talked and we tried to figure out both how she got here and how she could get back. Magic is not outlawed where she is from, and she thought perhaps it was a spell gone wrong. After a lot of research, we discovered there was what amounts to a weak spot between our two realms. It was somehow affected by magical energy, which created the portal. She had been caught up in a simple transportation spell at the time, and somehow got sent through to this side.”

“There appears to be a lot of ‘somehows’ in that explanation,” Arthur commented disparagingly. He sat down on the bench Marie had recently vacated and stretched his long legs before him. “Can I assume that, if magic pushed her through to this side, magic was needed to send her home?”

“She did the spell based on what we found in some of the Old Texts, and managed to get home,” Merlin confirmed. He left out the part where he helped with the spell and it somehow created a near permanent doorway between the realms that ebbed and grew with any magical usage nearby. He also left out the part where he was thrown back with her and used that realm’s far greater library on the subject to figure out how to get back.

“You mentioned you have been through before, were you brought back with her?” Arthur asked.

Merlin silently cursed; of course Arthur would have remembered that point. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Then why did I not notice you were gone?”

This is where things went beyond Merlin’s ken. He scratched his head and said, “The closest we can figure is that time moves different on the different sides.” He got an idea. “In your view, how long was I gone before I came back with Marie?”

Arthur shrugged. “A matter of a few breaths, if that. It was negligible, really.”

“I was there long enough to make my way through the castle, have a conversation, and return,” Merlin told him, pleased when Arthur gave him a disbelieving look as he had hardly believed it the first time and thought himself daft.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed in thought though, and Merlin made a mental note to never discredit the man’s intelligence. “I believe I know when you were gone,” Arthur mused. “You disappeared for a full afternoon and did not return until the following morning. When you did, you were far more exhausted than you had reason to be, dressed different than I had ever seen you, and had several scratches you never explained.”

Merlin nodded. “I was there for nearly four days, sire.” A very busy four days, where he learned battle tactics of both sword and magic, and then used them repeatedly.

He was almost proud to have made the normally composed prince balk, “Four days?”

“Four,” Merlin confirmed. “The woman I spoke of earlier? She was here for nearly six, yet only two and a half passed on her side. We reasoned that time distorts for the traveller, or during the journey itself. The people I talked to on that side thought I occasionally looked different, foggy around the edges but then they would blink and I’d seem fine, and M-, the woman who crossed over looked the same here.”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his thighs and folding his hands before him. “Who is this woman? And how could you have hid her for so long with no one discovering who she was or where she was from.”

“I don’t have her permission to tell you,” Merlin hedged, though he was, in all technicality, being honest. He bit his lower lip, knowing that would not put off Arthur for long. “Remember how I said things are very similar over there? She is someone you would know here and I do believe you would trust her. She slept in one of the guest rooms and the kitchens did not really question why I needed more food – I think they though Gaius had a patient. Clothing for her stay was more difficult, but...”

“But you borrowed from Morgana’s wardrobes, didn’t you?” Arthur smirked.

Merlin was not quite sure if it counted as borrowing as it was Morgana wearing Morgana’s clothing, just a different Morgana and there went his headache again as he tried to sort that out. In the end, he settled for a reluctant nod as it seemed the closest to accurate.

Arthur seemed satisfied with that and moved on to ask, “What role did Gaius play in all of this?”

Merlin sighed. He did not want to implicate his mentor, but the fact that his rooms were arranged and he had already mentioned the need for research had pretty much seen to that already. “He helped try to sort out what was going on and how to fix it,” he admitted. Then, quickly, so as to try to prevent the prince from bringing the elderly man up on the same charges Merlin himself was certain to face, he added, “He gave me books only, and tried to find some reference to this happening in the past. He saw the woman, but took no part in anything remotely magical and tried to keep me from it as well.”

That was an understatement. At one point, Gaius had threatened to leave the other realm’s Morgana to figure things out on her own and to take Merlin away to make certain he did not get caught up in anything. He relented, slightly, but that was why Merlin and Morgana had done the spell to send her through while he was out visiting an ailing family in the village.

“I do not fault Gaius for this,” Arthur promised. He narrowed his eyes as he continued, “I do, however, fault you. There was a risk, to the castle and to yourself, and you did not see fit to notify me. Something dangerous could have come through or this woman of yours could have been trapped here indefinitely and needed means to provide for herself, not to mention protection from execution should she have been foolish enough to be caught doing magic.”

Merlin looked up at that, the word “protection” ringing in his ears. Arthur sounded more concerned for her welfare than for ridding the world of another witch, despite both his father’s laws and not even knowing who it was who would need the protection.

Arthur looked at him as though he were particularly dim. “You claim she is from a place where magic is welcomed. One cannot fault her for not knowing the laws and ways of a place she encountered by accident.” He leaned back on the bench once more. “And I, for one, cannot fault someone for simply trying to get back home.”

Merlin swallowed the grin that threatened to erupt; pleased to see the blind hatred for the unknown was not passed from father to son after all. If Arthur could believe magic might possibly help someone, perhaps he could believe it wasn’t pure evil as well.

Arthur stood and clapped his hands together, shocking Merlin out of his thoughts and reigniting the pain in his head. “Right,” the prince said as he paced towards the door. “You need to find a way to close this portal and we need a way to keep people from mucking about this room.” He turned on his heel and folded his arms before him, one finger tapping his bottom lip. “I could assign a guard?” he offered.

Merlin shook his head. “And if Gaius or I need to do something that sounds remotely like magic and he comes in to find a glowing portal? No thanks; I’d prefer not to be put to death if I can help it.”

Arthur gave him a look that clearly questioned his intelligence. “I’m the prince, Merlin. I can say it was on my order and you will be spared.”

Now it was Merlin who looked at him like he was daft. “And if we were to be brought before the king? I doubt he would be pleased with you keeping such a thing from him and I doubt he would be as understanding about our roles up to this point.”

The finger missed Arthur’s lip and hit his teeth. He pulled it away in annoyance. “You have a point,” he admitted reluctantly. “Father would likely have you imprisoned for keeping this from him and either lock the room away or burn it to the ground.”

“Neither of which would work when the portal isn’t really here in the room in the first place,” Merlin pointed out.

“I could pretend to be interested in herb lore,” Arthur offered. “It would give me a reason to be here and I could serve as guard from both inquisitive maids and anything that came through.”

“And if you miss your other duties?” Merlin frowned. “Your father would notice and quiz both you and us on your progress.”

“Healing techniques?” Arthur tried. “They are important for anyone engaged in battle to learn about and I already know quite a bit, not to mention most seem common sense. My father might not be able to tell the difference.”

“Especially if you keep up with at least some of your usual duties,” Merlin conceded.

Arthur flashed a grin, apparently pleased with the hint of a plan they had come up with. “If I am not here though, I want this door locked and you, both of you, off doing other duties,” he ordered. “No poking at this portal and absolutely no going through to the other side.”

“Agreed,” Merlin nodded.

Arthur looked at him as though that had been far too easy. “Is there anything else I need to be concerned about? You’re not going to sleepwalk your way into another dimension or anything?”

Merlin shook his head. He had only did that once and had since taken the precaution of placing a chair in front of the door in his room at night. “No, I think that’s it,” he agreed.

That was, of course, when a small thud echoed throughout the room and they both turned to find an elaborate scroll case now sitting at the edge of the portal. A raised eyebrow from Arthur and he picked up the thing, held it before him and examined the gilded carving along the edges. “Merlin?” he asked, drawing the name out into far too many syllables.

Merlin winced. Morgana had only done that twice before. Once when she had a promising discovery about the portal itself, and once when she feared his life was in danger. He could only guess at the reasoning this time, but had to admit, her timing was awful. “Um, it appears to be a message from the other side?” he tried, not surprised when Arthur did not relinquish his hold on the case.

“I see that,” the prince said, sounding both insulting and as though Merlin was trying his patience. “But why does it have the Pendragon crest? And why is it using a container identical to one I know for a fact currently resides in my father’s study?”

This is where it would get tricky, well, trickier, Merlin presumed. He bit his lip, but released it when Arthur scowled at the stalling tactic. Finally, he threw all caution to the wind and figured the truth could not hurt that much, especially if he was selective with what truths he used.

“Similarities,” he reminded him. At Arthur’s nod of reluctant understanding, he continued, “The Pendragons do still exist there, as does this castle and most of the same people. It’s only logical that she, the woman from before, would use such a thing to send a message, right?”

“Who is this woman?” Arthur demanded. He still held the case in his grasp and Merlin recognised a ransom demand when he saw it.

“I promised her I would not tell,” he insisted. To let Arthur know of Morgana’s magic in the other realm would let him know if it in this realm and open the door to far too many questions he simply was not ready to answer yet.

“Merlin...” Arthur warned.

“Would you have me break my word just to satisfy your curiosity?” Merlin countered.

Arthur sighed and Merlin knew he had won this round. A promise was an oath and one did not break an oath on pain of death, his or another’s. “No, I would not,” he relented. With a tilt of his head to the side, he added, “Especially when there are much easier ways of doing so.”

As expected, he popped the seal on the case to reveal a length of parchment. He tossed the case to the table and spread the parchment out on the same. Merlin did not even bother rolling his eyes at his lack of surprise of his behaviour. He did, however, have to hide a smirk at his confusion.

“What is this?” Arthur demanded. He gestured to the parchment and the scrawl of ink upon it. “It’s gibberish!”

Merlin peered over his shoulder and recognised both the handwriting and the language immediately. “It’s not, really,” he insisted. “It’s just something you do not know how to read.”

“And you do?” Arthur scoffed. “Are you saying that you learned their entire language system during your short time there? You can barely remember how to buckle a vambrace some days.”

He pushed away from the table and stalked away in frustration, which allowed Merlin a clear view of the text and Morgana’s message. “It’s a language we use here, just in some of the older texts,” he called over his shoulder distractedly. It was the truth. Gaius had been the first to show him and help him decipher the intricate scrawls and accents. It was also primarily used in magical texts, a fact Merlin was going to keep to himself for the time being.

“So,” Arthur demanded, suddenly hovering at Merlin’s shoulder. “What does it say, oh great scholar?”

Merlin reread the message, then read it again to make sure he was not missing anything. The language was nearly as complex as the script itself and a slight change could have drastic consequences. It seemed simple enough, however, so he replied, “She just wants to make certain Marie returned safely and that there were no lingering consequences from the journey.” The concern was more that Merlin had been caught and was to be put to death for witchcraft and she was offering him a safe haven if need be. If Merlin had been captured, the only other person who would have recognised the script would be Gaius, who could get him the message and possibly to safety.

Arthur looked doubting, but reluctantly seemed to believe him. He opened his mouth to say something more, but a guard chose that moment to appear in the doorway and request his immediate presence with the king. Merlin looked around for a quill to write a short reply to Morgana in his absence, but was dragged along with Arthur before he got the chance.

There had been an assassination attempt, most likely directed towards Arthur, but it was possible several knights were targeted as well. Tober had caught his hand on a sharpened edge of one of the shields. He had managed a startled cry before he collapsed to the floor, the wound and the hand it was attached to a dark black that spiralled up his arm, even in the death that finally claimed him agonizing minutes later. The king had wished to make sure Arthur’s armour was not affected and, in an uncharacteristic manoeuvre, wanted to make sure Merlin’s own gear was not affected as well.

Arthur’s armour was safely locked away in his room and not stored with the others. It also had no trace of the thin and sticky green fluid along its edges. Unfortunately, they did find the liquid on three separate pieces in the general storage area, including a sharpened buckle to one of Leon’s pieces.

Merlin was fairly certain the poison was magical in nature, as was Gaius. The fact he could nearly feel it in his very blood certainly helped with that opinion and, thankfully, helped him locate more of the toxin on one of the practice blades Arthur preferred to use. Gaius took a sample to attempt to find a remedy, and anything and everything that might have come in contact with the poison was gathered to be quarantined and later cleansed or destroyed if no cure was to be found.

It was after all of this excitement, which had gone on late into the night and well into the next morning, that Merlin finally found himself at the door to Gaius’ workroom once more. He was dead on his feet and could barely keep his eyes open and honestly thought he could have been hallucinating when he walked in just as a fully armoured and fully armed James appeared through the portal.

“Master Emrys!” he exclaimed, hand outreached to catch Merlin as he tripped over his own feet in surprise.

That surprise turned to exasperation as he was suddenly pulled behind James, dangerously close to the portal, and the knight crouched down into an attack stance. Merlin looked up and could have slapped himself as he remembered Arthur had followed him down the corridor, likely to ensure he did not fall over asleep in the middle of two realities on his way to bed. The last thing he had said was something along the lines of sending Merlin to the dungeons themselves if he even tried to get up before midday.

Arthur stood there now, his own sword extended as he had armed himself early into the previous evening’s debacle. “Release him now,” he warned, and took a menacing step forward.

“I do not recognise you nor your authority,” James advised.

“And I do not recognise you as a knight of Camelot,” Arthur countered, shifting his stance ever so slightly. Merlin knew from long experience that this meant he was readying himself for the offensive if necessary.

“Are your knights always so arrogant and unprotected?” James asked Merlin over his shoulder.

“Are you so dim as to think wearing the armour of the realm will protect you from me?” Arthur responded. Merlin admitted it was a valid question as he had seen the prince take on large groups of well-armed and armoured men with nothing but a sword and live to tell the tale. Then again, Merlin himself had usually been surreptitiously helping during those times, and really did not think he could actively harm James given the whole having saved his life factor, so it was possible the whole thing would end in a draw.

He shook himself and tried to push away the exhaustion and focus on the now. As in ending the now and not letting it continue, draw or no. He held up a hesitant hand and tried, “James?”

“You will be safe, Master Emrys, I will make certain of that,” James promised, eyes never leaving what he perceived as his target and threat.

“Yes, I know I will,” Merlin told him, actively trying to ignore the look Arthur had given him at the title. “He is of no threat to me, not really,” he explained.

James shook his head. “I heard him threaten you with the dungeons, sir,” he pointed out.

Now it was Merlin’s turn to sigh. “That was if I did not get some sleep and meant as a joke, I think. Usually he’d threaten me with the stocks, but it’s so hard to sleep standing up.” He tried for levity, and then remembered James rarely had any, especially when preparing for battle.

“And just who does he think he is that he can threaten you with such things?” James demanded.

Arthur looked at the knight as though he had grown two heads. “I’m Arthur Pendragon, the bloody Crown Prince! I could have him flogged if I didn’t like the colour of his shirt or if he spilt wine on mine yet again; sending him to bed is hardly going to kill him!”

Arthur looked as though he was just building up steam, but was as observant as always and noticed the way James’ blade faltered and his mouth hung open like a guppy at the same time Merlin was able to push past him and notice the same. A motion from Merlin and Arthur lowered his blade as well, though he kept it in a ready position, and Merlin crept around to stand fully in front of the shocked knight, much to Arthur’s chagrin.

“James?” Merlin tried to get his attention. He waved his hands to show once again he was unarmed. “We had this conversation, remember? Things are different here.”

“Get back from there, Merlin,” Arthur ordered in a huff. When Merlin did not immediately move, He grabbed his shoulder and hauled him away by force.

“Let him go!” James ordered, blade back in place. He looked every bit the warrior, ready to take on anything and anyone to complete the mission given to him, despite some truly jolting surprises. The fact his mission was Merlin, something Merlin himself could use to his benefit, was reiterated by him asked, “Are you uninjured, Master Emrys?”

“I am fine,” Merlin insisted, ignoring the way Arthur made a face at the man and his apparent obsession with Merlin’s newfound title. “And before this truly gets out of hand, I ask that you lower your weapon and let us talk this out like the civilised beings we truly are.”

James’ eyes darted from Merlin to Arthur, then back again. “And this man? This prince? Will he lower his weapon as well?” he questioned.

“I certainly will not!” Arthur protested. He visibly flinched and jerked the blade away when Merlin reached out and lowered it with his bare hand. “What are you trying to do, cut off your blasted fingers?” he demanded.

Merlin turned so his attention was solely on his prince and not on his supposed saviour. “This is James, a knight from the other realm,” he explained. “He does not know who you are any more than you know who he is. I told you things were similar there, but this is one of the differences. Please lower your weapon so that we can hear his message with a little less bloodshed and a little more concentration, yeah?” he tried.

Arthur reluctantly sheathed his sword and muttered something about being able to get to it faster than the ponce before him anyway, but Merlin ignored all that and turned to James instead. “What brings you to this side?” he asked, then added as an afterthought, “And for the sake of your deity, put that thing away.”

James nodded at the order and dutifully tucked his sword away. “You did not respond, so we grew concerned for your well-being,” he replied, head bowed but voice full of more than just professional concern.

“Reply?” Merlin rubbed his forehead and tried to get his tired mind to focus. Then he saw it: the scroll case still sitting opened upon the table. “Oh!” he exclaimed in understanding. “You mean to Mo-, er, her message! We had a bit of an emergency and I was unable to send it back through.”

“Emergency?” James questioned and Merlin could tell he was still in full protective mode. The fact he kept glaring in Arthur’s direction was further proof of that.

“Poison applied to armour and such. We believe it may have been an assassination attempt,” Merlin explained. He wandered further into the room and sat down heavily in the padded rocking chair beside the hearth. He was far too exhausted to be dealing with this right now. He was also far too exhausted to deal with the look Arthur gave him for spilling supposed secrets or some other such nonsense.

He briefly wondered if it was safe to leave those two at it without him standing between them as a shield, but found they had both reluctantly come closer to where he sat, Arthur closing the door behind him when he could have just as easily called for guards.

“What kind of poison?” James asked just as Arthur said, “They’d really send someone for not replying to a scroll? What if we’d been out hunting or such?”

“Two journeys through the portal in such short succession? We gave him time to sleep off the effects, but he still did not reply,” James explained.

“Didn’t sleep and didn’t reply,” Merlin yawned. Arthur slid the footstool over in his direction with a quick kick and Merlin nodded his thanks as he propped up his feet.

“You’ll make yourself ill again,” James chided. He knelt down beside the fire and threw on a few more logs, easily building it up again.

Merlin shook his head. “That involved far more magic and attacks and life threatening conditions than I hope this does,” he reminded him. He hoped Arthur thought he meant magic directed at him and not magic performed by him, and tried to think up a way to make it seem like that when prince himself cleared his throat.

“Do I even want to know what went on over there?” Arthur asked. He grabbed one of the benches for himself, but Merlin noticed that he sat in a way to give him easy access to his weapon.

“Probably not,” Merlin confirmed. His eyes started to drift closed and he had to actively try to keep them open. “Most of it would be against your father’s laws and the rest of it was just plain scary.”

James chuffed out a laugh at that and pulled up a stool for himself, mirroring Arthur’s position. “More than one knight requested a talisman after that battle. I think Noel still sleeps with his.” He gestured towards a slightly bewildered looking Arthur and asked, “Is this man truly the prince, son of the king you spoke of?”

Merlin nodded. “James of Suffolk, please meet Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot.”

James bowed from his seated position and raised a dark eyebrow at the supposed royalty. “You will have to forgive my disbelief, sire, but you simply do not exist in my realm. However, I can say with some certainty that I know quite a few people who would love to meet you.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man nearly identical in size and age to himself, but with far darker features and a thin scar that was visible down the right side of his neck. “I knew a James from Suffolk when I first took over training the knights. He was a good man, had a brother Arivan who serves me still, but he died in what should have been a simple patrol exercise long before Merlin ever set foot in Camelot.”

James eyes widened only slightly. “My brother was injured in the last battle, and not yet able to return to his duties,” he confirmed. He ran a gloved finger down the scar on his neck and said, “This nearly did me in, but we were lucky enough to have a healer with us who was able to save me with his Gifts.”

Merlin knew what that meant. Anytime anyone from the other realm referred to Gifts, they usually meant of the magical nature. James from that realm got lucky; the James here did not have such fortune on his side.

The fire was warm and the chair very comfortable and he was quite thoroughly tired, so he found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the conversation when it turned back to the poison and the attempt on Arthur’s life. “It doesn’t make sense,” Arthur admitted. “It is too random. Any knight could have touched these pieces, or a squire even. If it was an assassination attempt, it was a poor one. The only possible outcome would be chaos and fear of the seemingly random deaths.”

“Perhaps that is what they were after?” James suggested. Merlin prised open one eye to take in the expected look of disbelief on Arthur’s features. He was not disappointed. He was also not surprised when James held up a gloved hand and continued, “Chaos and fear and weakening of the ranks, even if it was not in a prescribed order, would still have a detrimental effect on the men. Had this happened in my realm, I would have increased the border patrols as it would be likely someone was readying a more direct attack while we were still flailing about.”

Arthur looked like he was considering James’ words, but was not quite sure if he could trust his point of view. “He’s First Knight over there,” Merlin threw in on the off chance that helped change Arthur’s mind.

“What happened to Leon?” Arthur asked in surprise.

“Who is Leon?” James rejoined.

Merlin was not certain if he was asking Arthur or himself, so he supplied, “Earl of Sussex’s son. The one I told you would make a great addition to your knights. Did he ever come visit?”

James shook his head. “His father has taken ill and he has taken charge of his estates. I have yet to meet the man but, if he is as you say, at the very least there will be a strong presence on that border.”

“He’s a good man with natural talents with the sword and mace and I really cannot believe I am having this conversation,” Arthur mused, shaking his head. “I don’t even know who you are, and you appear so soon after an attack and here I am having a conversation with you as though we are simply stopping for tea.”

“I could make some tea for you,” Merlin suggested just to get a reluctant grin out of him.

Arthur threw a small satchel of something from the table at him and it bounced harmlessly off his chest before it landed in his lap. He recognised it as a bit of lavender he had picked and stripped the day before and tucked it behind his head like a pillow, inhaling the soft scent as he made a show of recrossing his legs on the footstool and settling back in the chair.

James simply raised an eyebrow at the show before he returned to business and asked, “What can you tell me about the properties of this poison?”

Arthur shrugged and admitted, “Not much, I’m afraid. Gaius has not yet run all of his tests, so all we know at this time is that it is extremely effective.”

“If you can spare a sample, I can take it back to my realm and see if our people can make anything of it,” James offered.

“Your magicians and sorcerers, you mean,” Arthur corrected, just a bit of heat to his tone.

“Not everyone has the Gift, but it has proved incredibly useful for our needs,” James defended his people. “It’s also possible that the poison itself is magical in origin, especially if so many have a vendetta against your crown. Our court sorcerers may be able to find a cure or treatment that would not be available here.”

“You seem pretty eager to get your hands on this poison,” Arthur pointed out, and Merlin feared the conversation was about to take a turn for the worse.

“Only to help,” James insisted.

“You expect me to willingly turn over a weapon used against us to a group of sorcerers to do with as they please?” Arthur asked, giving more than a hint of his point of view on the issue. “You claim you wish to help, but I do not know you nor do I have any reason to put my trust in anyone who sides with magic.”

Merlin’s eyes shot open at that, just in time to see the look James shot him. “Told you. Magic is not considered an asset here; it’s considered more of a ‘punishable by death’ thing instead.” He hoped James got the unspoken message and would remember to keep his secret.

It seemed to be enough and James offered him a slight nod that did not go missed by Arthur before offering his view of the situation. “Where I stand, a threat to the crown has been made. It may be your crown instead of the crown of my realm, but Camelot has been threatened. Given the similarities between this realm and my own, there is a possibility that something similar may happen there and I cannot allow it. I take any threat seriously, and would be surprised if you did not do the same in my stead.”

Arthur seemed to think about that for a moment. He sighed reluctantly and reached into the pouch at his side to remove a small cloth bundle. Inside, Merlin knew, laid the buckle with the green residue still upon it. Arthur tossed it to James, who caught it easily. “Gaius has enough to run more tests already,” he explained. “If not, I am certain we will find even more tainted weapons before long.”

James inclined his head slightly at the capitulation. “I can send it through the portal now, and hopefully we can find a cure, if not a source,” he offered.

Merlin suspected James intended to send only the poisoned piece, something that was reinforced as he reached for a quill and some parchment. “You need to go with it, James,” he told him. He could see the knight’s protective nature start to rise and explained, “You need to go and explain what is going on. She will be less likely to send others with a personal report versus some parchment and poison and you know it. Besides, there is nothing you could do here other than hide, and what good would that do?”

“I could protect you, and this prince you are so keen to look out for,” James offered.

Arthur shook his head. “We are on high alert. Any face not recognised will be met with suspicion, especially one pretending to pose as a knight and using the name of someone fallen years before.”

“But who will look after Master Emrys?” James questioned. Merlin tried not to roll his eyes, but knew the knight suspected his exasperation anyway, as well as his wish not to reveal anything beyond the normal duties of a servant and physician’s assistant. At least James was quick of mind as he added, “If the physician and his assistant are known to be researching the poison, then their lives may be at risk.”

“I will assign a guard to Gaius, someone I trust implicitly,” Arthur promised. “And, as for Master Emrys,” he paused as if simply the use of the name delighted him and Merlin feared he would never live this down. “Merlin is to do no more than sleep until midday at the earliest. I can lock this room and assign a guard if need be. You have my word that he will be safe. Well, as safe as Merlin can ever be, that is.”

James seemed doubtful, but accepted Merlin’s promise as much, if not more so, than that of the prince. He insisted on seeing Merlin to his room, something Arthur agreed with as he made disparaging comments about Merlin falling through the portal once more, and tucked a small talisman into Merlin’s hand as he pretended to catch him upon the short set of steps. “It will protect you more than any prince,” he whispered.

“James...” Merlin chided. He did not want to go into the whole magic being banned and how he could be killed if caught with such a thing, especially when there was a magical poison-wielding assassin on the loose.

“Your talents may be many, but even you need protection in your sleep, especially if you are not allowed to cast the shielding spell,” James told him.

Merlin sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and tucked the charm on its cord beneath his scarf. He kicked off his boots and pulled his thin blanket up to his shoulders, not even bothering to change into sleeping clothes as he was simply too exhausted to do much more. “Night, James,” he yawned.

“Good day, Master Emrys,” James corrected. The knight looked around the small room with more than a hint of distaste, but Merlin ignored the implication that he lived in a hovel. The grand rooms he had been gifted with on the other side were nice, but far too fine for his liking. He was afraid of touching anything for fear of breaking it or getting it dirty, versus here was simply home. Basic, simple, small, and cosy home.

Merlin listened to a hushed final conversation between Arthur and the knight, and felt the portal surge as James returned home. He could not keep his eyes open any more as he heard Arthur check in on him one last time, and then a key turn in the lock to the main door. It was ridiculous, this need of theirs to protect him, and he would tell them both as much just as soon as he could stay awake long enough to do so.

He next awoke to the sound of a key in a lock again and the burning sensation of the talisman upon his chest. It was not glowing or creating a shield or anything like that, just warning him than another being was approaching and he should be aware. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced up at the window to see that the light was slanting in a way that indicated it was a fair deal past midday, a fact his stomach chose to reinforce by choosing that moment to rumble as well.

“It seems I got here just in time,” Gwen teased as she carried a small tray up the steps to his room. The smells of stew and fresh bread filled the tiny area and he could not help but lick his lips in anticipation.

He remembered himself though, and the manners his mother taught him, and insisted, “You did not need to bring me anything Gwen, that’s not fair to you.”

Gwen shook her head, a few curls falling loose as she set the tray down on the small table beside his bed. “Arthur did not want me returning to my home, he said I would be putting myself at risk and making another target, and I have nearly nothing else to do with Morgana still missing, so this will at least keep me busy for a little while.”

“It is much appreciated,” Merlin told her, torn between being polite and reaching for the delicious smelling creations she had on offer.

“Oh, eat already!” she laughed, lifting the lid to reveal the thick and hearty stew. It was better fare than the servants usually received, and was still piping hot, which meant it was dished purposefully for him and was not leftover from a noble’s meal. “Arthur insisted,” she answered his unvoiced question. “He said you were up half the night chasing after the assassin and likely would need something more than bread and fruit to make up for it.”

Merlin was not about to argue with that. He dug in and savoured the taste upon his tongue, scooping up more perhaps a bit quicker than was strictly healthy, and only slowing when Gwen pushed a mug of tea into his hands and patted him on the back while he coughed sheepishly. She told him about the events of the morning, which were not much, unfortunately. They were no closer to finding the potential assassin, though they did find more of the green residue around a cask of ale, leading to its demise and some very sorrowful knights.

She carried his dishes away, and he watched to make certain she avoided the portal even though she had obviously already done so on the way in and he knew she was intelligent enough to avoid anything so obvious and odd. She did not question the line drawn about the floor, but dutifully stepped to the side as directed, likely believing Merlin and Gaius had some experiment in place that she best know nothing about.

Once she left, he heard the lock on the door once more and was reminded of the fact he was supposed to be looking for a way to close the portal as much as a way to fight the poison. He figured one precluded the other, and set to washing up instead, taking a cloth and water from the basin and scrubbing over his face and neck before changing into a clean tunic for the day. He had no sample of the poison as Gaius had everything save for what Arthur gave James, so he was not certain what he was supposed to do for the day.

He was about to either ask the guard to find Arthur, or simply attempt to leave to find him himself, when he heard the prince in question in the hallway. Arthur dismissed the guard after explaining Merlin should now be coherent enough to figure out how to lock the door on his own and that they likely did not need extra people around while he and Gaius played about with the poison.

Merlin was about to question the intelligence of the guard given that Arthur did not usually explain himself quite so much, and Gaius had set up a lab in the armoury to test as many pieces as possible prior to allowing any knight to touch anything, but Arthur chose that moment to enter, so Merlin withheld his doubts for the time being.

The door had barely closed when Arthur demanded, “Did you find anything?”

Merlin looked at him incredulously. “I just woke up!” he protested. “I could hardly research anything in my sleep.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Arthur pointed out. With a smirk, he added, “Who knows? Maybe your unconscious mind is less addled than you conscious one anyway.”

Merlin settled for glaring at him while he made certain his habitual scarf was tied in a way to hide the talisman he still wore. “There’s nothing from James yet either,” he pointed out.

Arthur eyed the portal warily. “Can you trust him? Or, more accurately, do you trust him?” he asked. Merlin noted the distinction with interest.

“He saved my life, more than once,” Merlin replied.

Arthur nodded, but pursed his lips. “It’s just... if he fears no magic...”

Merlin held up a hand to stop that line of thought, knowing it was the crux the problem. “He fears magic,” he insisted. “He’d have to after everything he’s seen. It’s just, well, he knows it has a use for good as well as evil.”

Arthur scoffed. “I have yet to see any evidence that magic can ever be good.”

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened them, he found Arthur watching him curiously. “I’ve seen magic do far more good than a sword or the best of Gaius’ herbs,” Merlin insisted. Realizing he was perhaps a little overzealous in his tone, he forced himself to shrug and add, “So it can’t be all bad, yeah?”

Arthur shook his head and started to absently flip through books on the table. “Well, maybe it’s like you said. Things are different there.”

“Something like that,” Merlin muttered before setting about researching both portals and poisons for the day.

They paged through as many books as they could, setting them aside into three distinct categories. The first was anything the might have to do with the poison. The second was anything that might have to do with the portal. The final bunch was what Arthur deemed worthless despite containing priceless tomes with vast repositories of information simply because said information was not useful to them at that particular time.

Merlin grabbed more than one from midair during a careless toss and carefully set it into the designated stack. He hated to think of what Gaius would say about the state of his workroom as it was. Books and scrolls were everywhere, some open, some closed, and some stacked precariously atop each other and far too close to candled braziers for even Merlin’s liking, let alone his mentor’s. This was all, of course, mixed in with platters of food Arthur had brought whenever he had a craving, or possibly got bored. There were a lot of plates, some even still with meats and cheeses.

Arthur leaned against a now empty shelf while Merlin compared a figure sketched on parchment with what Gwen had dropped off as Gaius’ findings thus far. The physician was now sleeping in guest quarters near his makeshift lab, and Merlin envied him despite his own lie in, but had threatened that everything had better be in order when he returned in the morning. Gwen had promised to stop by first thing to help if needed, and reminded Arthur to keep his wine and tea away from the books if at all possible, which they both took to mean by any means necessary.

Arthur had just taken another sip from his goblet, when Merlin felt the surge of portal behind him. Arthur must have sense something as well, as suddenly he was at the edge of the barrier, sword in hand and wine long forgotten. “Is this how it works then? A brief glow to tell you that someone is on his way?” he asked, repositioning himself in front of Merlin.

Merlin used a ribbon to mark his page and looked up at Arthur in surprise. “You can see that? Even Gaius had trouble,” he mused aloud. He also mused as to the possible reasons why, but kept that to himself. Arthur hated to be reminded of his possibly magical beginnings, and Merlin rather needed him focused on the task at hand and not on the past at the moment.

The task at hand was apparently another scroll case being slid through. Arthur glared at it in mistrust, and then turned that same glower in Merlin’s direction when he very calmly picked it up and opened it, not even bothering to check if it was booby trapped. Merlin could feel the familiar warmth Morgana’s magic even through the portal, and knew whatever she sent would be safe.

He opened the seal and quickly scanned the contents, sighing in disappointment when he found that no antidote had been found on that side either, though they had discovered that at least one of the ingredients was magical in origin, so there was that. He dutifully reported his findings to Arthur, who looked as though he was torn between being relieved and displeased. Merlin suspected that it was likely due to Arthur hoping for a magical cure to be hand delivered to put an end to all this, and had to admit it was something he would have rather liked as well.

There was one thing of interest, however. It was minor, and Morgana seemed to have mentioned it solely in passing in her attempt to be forthcoming with anything and everything that could potentially be of aid. The magical ingredient was also referenced in a book of histories as being revered by a group known as “Suaimhneas.” Not much was known about them, save a mention of the Druid legends of a private and cloistered group that wished simply to live as one with nature and to be left alone.

The word reminded Merlin of something he had seen. He resisted the urge to use his magic to locate the reference, and instead rummaged through the stack of parchment and books until he found what he was looking for. There, on a chart of rare and useful herbs, was a drawing of a lily-like plant. Scrawled beneath it were the words, “Source: Suaimhneas.” There was also a little symbol that looked like a stylised version of the plant simplified into near runic form.

“I’ve seen that,” Arthur commented. Merlin was about make a comment of his own regarding the prince’s memory, or lack thereof, when he reached not for the stack full of herb lore and curatives, but for the stack with hints about portals and magical transports instead, only to quell such urges when Arthur placed the text side by side with the parchment and said simply, “Here.”

Merlin looked back and forth at the aged pieces of parchment, and was forced to agree: the symbol was the same, down to the little curve at the end. “But if there is a connection between the plant and the portal...” he started.

“Then we have to question if there is a connection between your little group of friends and the assassin,” Arthur finished for him.

“I was going to say that then we should warn them that the same group could be on both sides, if they are even connected at all,” Merlin argued.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “The likelihood of a magical portal appearing with a pretty little symbol and a magical poison appearing with a pretty little symbol at nearly the same moment in time is rather small, wouldn’t you say?” he huffed. “The similarities are too great; there must be a connection.”

“There are far more similarities between the realms than just a single symbol with possible ties to magic,” Merlin huffed back. “People, places, even the tapestry that hangs in the west wing, all of these are the same. Same enough to know they are not all bad, at least.”

“And yet magic is not banned and I apparently do not exist,” Arthur pointed out. “Something is fundamentally different there. Are you saying that this difference is not enough to make a supposed good turn evil? Or at least some section of that ‘good’ to want to ensure nothing challenges their reign, whether from this realm or their own?”

“I’m saying that I know who I trust on that side, and feel the need to warn them that their lives may also be at risk,” Merlin replied. He pulled on his hair in frustration, trying to think of something that would convince Arthur other than just simply going against his wishes and sending something through. He knew Arthur would be watching him far too closely for that and, unless he wanted to risk using his magic in front of the prince, he needed Arthur to at least contemplate the fact that a land inherently magical was not also inherently evil.

The fact that an understanding Arthur would also be less likely to run through any visitors from the other side with his sword just out of sheer pig-headedness was also a plus.

He bit his lip but quickly released it when it looked like Arthur was about to start up again. He’d probably ask just who it was Merlin was trusting and he’d be forced to say Morgana and he’d be forced to reveal the Morgana on that side was a powerful sorceress which would in turn make Arthur question if the Morgana on this side was a sorceress which would in turn make Arthur wonder just who else might have magic and he’d begin to look at things far too closely and it would all be such a mess. He needed more time to think it over, and that meant he needed a stalling tactic.

He was not quite certain why this particular example came to him, but he blurted out, “Cedric!”

Arthur paused, clearly not expecting that. “Cedric?” he repeated, quite obviously looking for clarification.

Merlin nodded. “The Cedric on this side was a thief who got caught up with something magical, right?” he began, reminding Arthur of long conversations that stressed a lack of jealousy over someone else waiting on him hand and foot and more actual concern for the prince’s well-being. “Well, the Cedric on that side was also a thief.”

“What, and his little bauble formed the portal?” Arthur asked sceptically. “Well done, let’s just jump to conclusions without any evidence and, no, wait, that still does not convince me that people on that side are good, so what is your point, Merlin?”

Merlin resisted rolling his eyes, but just barely. “The ‘little bauble’ as you called it made all sorts of bad things happen: giant beasts, mass destruction, things like that. He tried the same on that side, only it got the better of him.”

“Still don’t see how this is supposed to convince me that side is good,” Arthur pointed out.

Merlin waved his hand to try to get him to shut up long enough to finish, then had to check that he did not actually cast a spell and was not going to be put to death for it when Arthur miraculously complied. From the look on his face though, he was tempted to smack him for daring to command a sovereign or some such thing, so Merlin rushed to continue, “The people that I want to warn, people who are as loyal to Camelot there as their counterparts are here, allowed magic to save the castle and save lives. Only one knight was injured and, even then, magic healed him. They did not give in to that power, they protected their people, and Camelot lives on. How bad can they be?”

“That’s the problem, Merlin, I don’t know!” Arthur shouted back. He started to pace and kicked a fallen parchment that was hopefully not life-changing or valuable out of his way in his frustration. He looked up and over to Merlin, indecision in his eyes. “I don’t know the people there. I don’t know if they are good or evil, if they want to help us or kill us all. I know that my people here are at risk and that a possible connection has been found between that risk and the people I know nothing about. My father would say to let them die, let them burn for their magic, but...”

“But you are not your father,” Merlin finished quietly. He did not know if it was a statement of fact or a plea or a hope for something better, but he felt it needed to be said. “There are people there who saved my life. You met one of them yourself. All I ask for is a chance to repay that favour by way of a simple warning.” Arthur’s jaw was tensing and releasing and Merlin knew he was close to capitulating, so he asked, “Do you trust me?”

The tension released fully, even his shoulder sagging as he said, “God help me, but yes, I do.”

“Then let me send the message,” Merlin tried.

“And if it’s a trap to see if you have figured it out and they send someone through to kill us all in our sleep?” Arthur asked.

“Then you have your answer and can tell me ‘I told you so’ as much as you want,” Merlin shrugged. With an impish grin, he added, “Of course, we’ll all be dead so it won’t be that much, unless they can make the dead talk and wouldn’t that be useful?”

“Not if they were as addled-brained as you,” Arthur muttered, but there was no heat to his tone. Louder, and far more sure of himself, he ordered, “There will be guards posted outside this door any time I leave. Anyone or anything comes through that portal will have to face either them or myself before they can do harm to the castle as a whole.”

Merlin nodded and silently added that they would have to get through him as well and he thought he may be a bit better suited to the task of taking down deranged sorcerers than Kerin the baker’s son who was just promoted to the position. That thought was neither her nor there at the moment though as he doubted anyone could get through all the wards Morgana had placed on the castle, battle her guards to find the portal room, and slip through without some advance warning, but he thought Arthur could use the reassurance as it was still a big step for him to risk trusting anything remotely related to being magical at all.

He searched around and found one of Gaius’ old quills and a pot of ink that was hopefully not too dried out. A bit more digging and he found some parchment that was actually clean and unused. It was far from the smooth velum Morgana had sent, and he knew his penmanship would be far from as refined as well, but also knew she was used to reading his scrawl by now.

He had just cleared off a space on the table to lay out his findings and begin his letter when he heard Arthur scuffing his feet and being petulant and basically trying to draw his attention without seeming like he was drawing his attention. Merlin looked up to find him, as expected, leaning against the bookcase poking at some random binding. He stared, knowing he was being watched in return, and waited as patiently as he could knowing Morgana was likely waiting with just as much impatience on the other side.

“Who is this person, Merlin?” Arthur finally asked.

He trusted Merlin’s word; he was letting him pen the missive, but clearly his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Unfortunately, that curiosity would not be sated, at least not any time soon. “I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you,” Merlin replied.

“Is it someone I know? From this realm? Someone I trust?” Arthur continued, undeterred.

Merlin sighed and put the quill down he had only just picked up, hoping it would not leave a blot on the page. “It is someone you would recognise; I have already told you this.”

“But would I trust this person?” Arthur pressed on.

Merlin paused before answering. Arthur trusted the Morgana of this world, though Merlin himself had good reason not to. He could not be positive that, with what Merlin knew of this realm’s Morgana plus the knowledge that she openly used magic in the other realm, Arthur would trust her word. Then again, he knew neither. In Arthur’s mind, Morgana was his surrogate sister, a ward taken in by his father who needed to be protected despite her best and most vehement protests. Knowing he likely did not fully keep the reluctance from his tone, Merlin answered, “I believe you trust the version of this person who resides in this realm.”

Arthur pondered that for a moment, thumb to his lip, before he asked, “Is it you?”

That was not what Merlin was expecting. He managed a squawked, “What?” in reply and fumbled the quill he had just picked up again, leaving more than a slight smear of ink behind.

“Is the person you are writing to yourself?” Arthur repeated. “Is it the other you, the you from that realm? You said ‘she’ before, but you could be attempting to mislead me or it is possible someone else is working for the other you.”

“Yes, Arthur, I am writing to myself,” Merlin said, disbelievingly. He shook his head before Arthur could cut in again. “Why would I hide that from you?”

“I won’t hold it against you if the other you happened to be cursed with magic, you know. Both you and that James repeatedly tried to convince me things are quite different there,” Arthur pointed out. “I don’t quite fully believe you regarding these differences, and likely will not until I can see it with my own eyes, but would like to place a name and possibly a face to this mysterious person I am supposed to blindly trust. I trust you, relatively so, and would extend that trust conditionally to the other you as well, at least until proven otherwise.”

The fact that Arthur claimed to trust him warmed Merlin’s heart. The fact he was so clearly wrong with his guess made Merlin want to laugh. The fact that he used the phrase “cursed with magic” made Merlin squirm, so he called the others a wash and replied simply, “It is not me, I can promise you that much.”

Arthur frowned as though disappointed by this knowledge. “Have you met the other you there? Perhaps if you can spot the differences between yourself and him, it will give us, and by us I mean me, something to go off of as to how the people there stack up against the people here.”

Merlin saw a glimmer of hope in his gaze, and knew Arthur wanted a reason to trust, wanted a reason to believe that this was actually a safe option, that he needed to go against a lifetime of being taught magic was evil as was anyone remotely associated with it, that he could trust a poor servant and not the word of his king or his advisors on this matter. Unfortunately, Merlin did not have the means to give him this reassurance at this time. He knew it was safe, but had no way of convincing Arthur of this fact. He could lie, say there was another man identical to him on the other side who promised him so many splendid things and they all come true, but Merlin felt that rather went against that whole trust thing that was being offered and could not bring himself to do so.

Instead, Merlin answered honestly, “There is no me on the other side, just as there is no you. Some things are different, and we happen to be two of the most obvious of these changes.”

Arthur looked crestfallen, but Merlin knew he appreciated the honesty. “Write your letter, send it through,” he ordered, words clipped and precise and clearly showing his emotions. “But I would feel much better if you were not sleeping alone here at night with that thing active.”

“Gaius-” Merlin started to say, but was cut off.

“Is no match for an armed assassin or a doorway to a magical realm,” Arthur finished for him. He tone broke no argument on that matter. “He will keep his room on the other side of the castle until this is sorted out.”

“The guards?” Merlin tried.

“He will have guards assigned to him there just as this room shall this evening as well,” Arthur said either not getting it or being purposefully dense. “This door will be locked and no one in or out without my approval until morning.”

Merlin slammed the quill down on the table, the little pot of ink teetering dangerously at the action. “And just where am I supposed to sleep, the stables?” he fumed. His little corner room was not much, but it was his and it was home and he’d be damned if he was going to leave it for a night full of horse manure.

Arthur simply rolled his eyes. “A cot can be made up for you in the antechamber of my rooms,” he explained as if he had not just happily taken away all of Merlin’s privacy. “It’s far safer and likely just as comfortable as that hovel of yours.”

“I don’t want a cot, I want my bed!” Merlin replied. “Not to mention a door with a means to shut you out. Anyway, what if another package comes through? Or James? We would have no way of knowing until far past whatever deadlines they set, or at least until after the guards attacked James when they heard him mucking about in here. And don’t say they would not – an assassin loose in the castle and an unknown man in knight’s garb appears in a locked room full of poisons? They’d attack, he’d attack, there would be a whole thing of attacking and quite possibly bloodshed, all because you won’t let me do something I have already been doing for weeks!”

He had, quite possibly, used a less than respectful tone with someone who could have him in chains at a moment’s notice and technically owned the entire castle – his little so-called hovel included, but he was quite fed up of Arthur’s pigheadedness and simply making assumptions about what was best when he did not have all the facts at hand to base that decision off of in the first place. It was not until he had to consciously get his breathing under control that he realised just how worked up he had gotten, and he winced inwardly in anticipation of Arthur’s response.

A response which was, once again, not quite what he was expecting. “That was quite dramatic, really,” Arthur said dryly. “One might even say melodramatic, even.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and smirked at Merlin’s answering frown. “You did raise a fair point, however. Should James come through again, he will likely be caught and I am assuming the other side would not be pleased with the prospect of losing what you claim to be their First Knight, nor would I be pleased with trying to convince my father why he should not simply behead him and be done with it. I cannot stay here myself to ensure your safety as that would look quite suspicious. The only solution is to lock you in again until I retrieve you in the morning.”

Merlin nodded in agreement, even though he felt a bit like one of the royal hounds being kennelled for the night. Then again, he had seen the kennels and they were often times less draughty than his own quarters come winter, so maybe he should not mind the comparison quite so much.

Arthur stayed quiet long enough after that for Merlin to finish writing, though it was absolutely no surprise when he attempted to read over Merlin’s shoulder as to just who the thing was addressed to, frowning when he found no such thing. The parchment was to be placed back into Morgana’s scroll case and sent back through, it would not take a genius on the other side to figure out just who should and should not read what was found.

Merlin had barely finished watching the case disappear through the curtain of the portal before Arthur was tugging at him once more. A questioning yelp later, and Merlin found himself being dragged through the hallways, door locked soundly behind him, and ordered to fetch some more food. They did not eat in the workroom, but in Arthur’s chambers and Merlin did not question the change. Being cooped up in one place too long was bothersome. Being cooped up in one place and forced to question your reality and everything you were taught to be real and true and evil could not be much better.

Arthur lounged in his chair, picking at his food and pushing certain morsels Merlin’s way even though he had made certain both had a plate of their own and both had eaten plenty throughout the day. Merlin looked at Arthur’s goblet of wine hopefully, it had been a long afternoon after all and if Arthur was in a giving mood then maybe it was time to chance his luck. It was not to be though, as Arthur pointedly stared at the ewer of water instead, and went so far as to pour Merlin a cupful himself when he tried not to take the hint.

They talked about nothing, really. Random reports that Arthur had no time to read save for a quick glance while Merlin had been setting out the plates, whether every keg needed to be sacrificed due to a single one being tainted, whether Gaius might like his new rooms as a permanent switch – everything save for magic and the possibility of its use in every day life and assassination attempts.

Merlin knew Gaius had found nothing so far. He had checked in on him while the kitchens prepared the food and told him what he had discovered about the Suaimhneas connection, only to discover his mentor knew very little about the group. He had called them a cult instead of a sect, but only knew of their reclusiveness and rumours that they had gone even deeper into hiding during Uther’s Purge of magic users. Gaius suggested the same texts Merlin had already reviewed, but could barely keep his eyes open, so Merlin decided to leave him be. The older man did give one final warning as to not fully trusting anything Morgana discovered, though Merlin was not certain if that was due to the differences between the realms or Gaius’ own biases that he freely admitted to.

Merlin thought about that as he munched on the last bit of his meal. There would be no desserts as they had not yet reached and vetted that portion of the pantry. A maid had found something green and soft in a cupboard earlier in the day and Gaius had wasted an hour testing it only to discover it was a piece of cheese that had gone off. He did not mind though, as everyone was on high alert and it was better safe than sorry. The head cook had been right mad however, and ordered the cupboard in question scrubbed top to bottom, further limiting the processing of the inventory.

When Arthur finally looked as though he was ready to nod off, Merlin started to gather the dishes from the meal to return to the kitchens. Arthur waved off any need for assistance with his night clothes, which meant there was a fair chance he was going to sleep in the tunic and trousers he was currently wearing, but Merlin decided to concern himself with that later, such as when it was time for a trip to the laundress.

It was not until Merlin was at the door that Arthur called out, “Do be careful, Merlin?”

Merlin suspected he meant with more than just the dishes, but raised one of the cups and shifted his grip slightly as he offered a cheeky, “I always am!”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly and his lips quirked with something less than amusement. “Do be careful, Merlin,” he repeated, this time with absolutely no hint of a question.

Merlin lowered the cup and lost his grin as he replied with as much seriousness as he could muster, “I always am, Arthur.”

Arthur turned back to his bed, kicking off his boots as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Sadly, I do believe that.”

Dishes safely dropped off in the kitchens and guards safely locked outside the door, Merlin debated the merits of following Arthur’s lead and not bothering with changing out of what he had worn that day. With a sigh, he forced the tunic over his head anyway as he did not have the same luxury of having enough clothing to constantly have a new outfit at his beck and call. He did now have the luxury of sleeping trousers thanks to Arthur, and he slipped into those as well.

He had forgotten about the talisman until it smacked against his chest, and then he could find no safe place to store it that would not negate its use. He had promised James he would use it, and it was no good buried in a drawer, so he simply laced up his nightshirt a little bit tighter and hoped the leather cording was not too obvious should anyone feel the desperate need to come knocking on his door at any odd hour of the night.

He was asleep pretty much the moment his head hit his pillow, his dreams filled with images of plants and flowers and golden light, but shot wide awake when he swore he heard something in the room outside.

The talisman was warm against his skin, bordering on hot, and he felt his magic come alive and burn a path through his veins. He arose as quietly as he could, avoiding the creaks in the floor through long practice of sneaking in past the times Gaius found reasonable. He peered out the door and instantly knew something was wrong.

The portal was active again, only this time it shone near red instead of its usual gold. It was fading as though recently used, and the careful line of sand drawn on the floor to mark its edges was smeared and smudged, leading towards the door to the main passageway. A door that was currently open, the lock still glowing with magic. Magic that likely came from the figure that whipped around towards Merlin’s room, but apparently saw nothing as he turned back just as quickly. It was long enough for Merlin to determine that the figure was male, that is was no one he recognised, and to obtain a rough approximation of his shape and size if not fully his features, but that would have to do for now as the man darted out into the hallway and out of view.

Just as Merlin wondered where the guards were in all of this, he saw the slumped form of one of them at the edge of the doorway and guessed the same was true of the second one. He left his hiding place to verify both that they would survive and the possible location of just where the man ran off to. He thought he caught a glimpse of the tail of a cloak swishing around the far corner, but he grew more concerned with the obvious line of green across the sleeve of Gilgan’s hauberk and the way black spiralled away from a gash to Harigan’s palm.

“Guards!” Merlin screamed as loud as he could. Four more armoured men appeared at the junction several doors down, and he pointed in the direction where thought the assassin had disappeared. A glance at their fallen friends, and likely the panic Merlin wore writ across his face, and they took off, the rattle of chain mail echoing off the stone.

“Help me?” Harigan pleaded, his breath already short and harsh, hard to hear above the clamour.

Merlin reached for him, tried to think of something he could do, but was stopped by Gilgan’s cry of, “Don’t touch him, you may infect yourself!”

He looked back to Harigan, but now the black disappeared beneath his sleeve and his eyes had drifted closed. Merlin knelt beside him, but was pulled back and away by Gilgan. By the time he had both freed himself and made certain the green had not smeared or spread, Harigan was gone.

“I could have helped him!” he shouted, but Gilgan shook his head.

“He was too far gone, Merlin,” the guard corrected. He looked to his own arm and pulled up the sleeve to reveal a line of black of his own amongst a smear of blood. “As am I,” he shrugged as if death was nothing but an inconvenience. “Use what you learn to save the prince and Camelot,” he ordered.

There was a rattle of breath at the end of his words and Merlin knew he was about to watch another man die. He looked down the hallway and heard the pounding of boots, the useless shouts of people chasing a phantom that was likely already gone. He looked over his shoulder to see the red slowly bleed back to gold as the magic seemed to right itself once more. Finally, he looked to Gilgan and held his hand as the rattle stopped.

He was still holding that hand when he heard another set of boots, softer and without the jangle of armour. He barely registered Arthur’s hands on him, gripping his shoulders and forcing him back into the workroom, pushing him down onto a bench before pacing before him. He figured Arthur had likely been berating him for some time before he finally tuned in enough to make out, “Merlin, did you hear a single word I said?”

“No,” he admitted.

Instead of shouting or screaming or listing in detail the thousand and one ways he was incompetent, Arthur asked with a calmness that seemed almost foreign to him, “Are you okay? Are you uninjured?”

Merlin thought about that for a moment before shakily nodding his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”

Arthur let out a whoosh of breath and his shoulders seemed to visibly lower as if a great deal of tension had just left his body. Arthur opened his mouth as if to make a comment, likely derisive, but instead grabbed Merlin’s wrist as he went to rub at his tired eyes.

Merlin was going to ask just what he thought he was doing, or maybe point out that, really, his grip was quite painful, but his eyes tracked Arthur’s gaze and he saw what had brought him cause for concern: there on the cuff of his nightshirt, was a stain of green.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked around a swallow.

He felt fine though, none of the agony or suffocation the others seemed to suffer. Okay, so yeah, his breath was a tiny bit rough, but he had just been through quite the scare and, anyway, he was fairly certain he would know if he was dying.

Merlin peered closer and realised the green was on his cuff only, the fabric rolled and folded. He pulled his wrist around to see the colour had not yet seeped through, but it was a near thing. Arthur saw it at the same time he did and then it was a mad dash to get the offending item off without actually touching the contaminated portion. It was only when the fabric lay in a crumpled pile near the hearth that Merlin realised the burning against his chest had not stopped and that his very skin seemed to hold the faintest shimmers of gold, at least to his own magically adept gaze.

Arthur poked at the talisman he still wore and raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Gift from James?” he guessed.

Merlin nodded, and feared the retribution as he admitted, “Yeah, he would not leave unless I took it.”

Arthur sat down heavily on the bench beside him and slumped back against the slightly higher table. “I do believe I am beginning to like the man,” he commented. “Maybe the other side is not as bad as all that, especially if your little bauble played any role in keeping the poison at bay.” He was panting as though he had just run all the way through the lower town, through the square and up to the highest parapet.

Merlin was as warmed by his obvious concern as he was by the possible acceptance of magic as a force of protection if not pure good. That’s why it pained him to admit, “I think the assassin came through the portal.”

Arthur looked over to him for a moment before leaning forward and hanging his head in his hands. “Of course he did,” he sighed.

“It was glowing, but differently than before. It’s better now, but the colour was off and it looked like the man came from here and not out there and that might be why he was able to surprise the guards and I think James’ talisman warned me about it, but too late to save them,” Merlin rushed to explain.

Arthur lifted his head and held up a hand to stop his rambling. “They are trained guards, Merlin, and you are a servant. There is nothing you could have done,” he insisted. Merlin opened his mouth to protest, knowing far better than Arthur just how much he could have done, but was cut off when asked, “You said man? Did you see what he looked like or if he had any noticeable identifying features?”

Merlin nodded and did his best to remember. He could picture the exact shade of brown-green of the cloak, the way it was hemmed with something that had caught the candlelight and reflected it back at him. The boots and hint of trousers he saw were just slightly higher quality than that of the average villager, but it was the glint of silver on his wrist not holding the knife that had caught Merlin’s eye, a thin band accented in what he thought could be bone though he could not make out the design. The hair was a light brown, as was his beard, neatly trimmed save for a patch that looked like a scar that curved around his cheek, leading to just the tiniest bit of discoloration on his actual skin beneath his eye. His eyes Merlin most definitely remembered: they were the colour of amber, filled with swirls of magic like Merlin had never seen, red and gold entwined together just as the portal had been when Merlin first awoke.

Arthur was clearly pleased with the details provided. He rose to inform both his father and the guard, but paused and spun on his heel at the last moment. “Keep the amulet,” he ordered.

“What?” Merlin questioned, confused. It was bad enough that Arthur saw it, but if a guard or knight or even the king questioned it, he could be accused of sorcery when it was not even his own this time around.

“The amulet, talisman, whatever you want to call it,” Arthur clarified, clearly flustered. “Unless it only works once, keep it. Tell people it was a gift from your mother if you have to; no one will question that from a country boy like you and most will think you always wore it under those ridiculous kerchiefs you favour anyway. Just... keep it, alright?”

Merlin nodded dumbly as he fingered the rough leather cording. He could still feel the magic within, chaotic from its recent use. He doubted it was responsible for preventing the poison when it was clear the liquid had not yet soaked through the fabric, but if it made Arthur happy, so be it. Besides, after seeing the effects up close, first hand, through even the protection of the guards’ armour, he knew he himself could use a little extra reassurance.

Arthur turned and finally left, shouting for Ergan to stand guard to the physician’s chambers as he did so. Merlin watched him go and listened to Ergan arrive and take his place, peering in only once to make certain Merlin was both okay and that there was nothing else lurking about that he should be concerned with. Merlin reassured him as much as possible, but heaved a sigh of relief when he closed the door to take up his position.

He worked as quickly as he dared, knowing his nerves to still be on edge and his movements far more jerky than necessary. The last thing he needed was to knock down some of Gaius’ pots or bottles and attract even more attention to himself. He grabbed a basket he used for gathering herbs and carefully set the nightshirt inside, making certain to in no way touch the tainted sleeve. He then grabbed a quill and parchment and scribbled a note to Morgana about the assassin, the portal, and everything that had transpired that evening. Finally, he sealed the basket with twine and used a bit of melted candle wax to affix the note to the top to ensure it was read before anyone went grabbing about and poisoning themselves. With a wince at the knowledge both Arthur and Gaius would likely berate him for his actions, he pushed the basket through the golden shimmer of the portal.

Shivering now from the chill in the air, he grabbed a bit of ash and sand and redrew the line that marked the boundary between the realms. Satisfied that his actions would have to do for now, he shuffled back to his room, donned his shirt from the day before, and curled back up under the covers to try to get at least some rest before everything came crashing down around them come morning.

He awoke some time later to the warmth of the sun pouring in through his window and the heat of something else entirely upon his chest. He recognised it from the night before as the talisman at work again, and silently groaned as he wondered what fresh mess had arrived for him to deal with this time. He sat up in bed and was ready to sneak back over to the door to investigate when he heard voices coming from the next room.

“I really should not be surprised that you are here.” That sounded like Arthur, someone Merlin would recognise near everywhere and in nearly every condition.

“And I really should not be surprised you are armed.” James. Of course he returned.

Merlin spared a thought as to how he probably should have phrased the events of the night before a little less dramatically in his note to Morgana just as Arthur pointed out, “A castle under attack? Oddly yes, I feel the need for a weapon.”

“And I feel the need to check on a friend,” James replied.

“Merlin’s asleep,” Arthur told him.

“No, I’m not,” Merlin called back, finally reaching his door and making his way down the short set of stairs. He wished he could have said he was surprised to see both men standing there, swords in hand and glares in place, but he really was not.

James turned to him slightly and offered him a nod of greeting. “Your gift woke you?” he guessed.

Arthur did surprise Merlin then by lowering his sword slightly and commenting, “If you mean that little charm you gave him to wear about his neck, then I am pleased to see it still working after last night.”

James looked at Merlin curiously, no doubt questioning how Arthur knew after all of Merlin’s warnings of not mentioning magic in front of him. “He saw it after the attack,” he explained. “I slept with it as promised, though I don’t know if that’s what woke me up then or not.”

It looked as though James was about to nod in understanding, but he cocked his head to the side slightly and his face paled instead. “That shirt you sent through, it was your own,” he said, working out the pieces.

Arthur sighed and sheathed his sword. “Why am I not surprised you sent that to them?” he muttered. A look to their guest and he added, “Though it does make sense why your personal guard here was so quick to appear this morning.” There was no real heat to his tone though, just resignation.

James must have recognised the tone as well as he finally sheathed his own blade. He turned fully to Merlin now and asked, “Are you certain that you are uninjured? The poison on the sleeve, if it touched your skin in any way...”

“I would be dead by now and we would not be having this conversation, now would we?” Merlin replied perhaps a bit too blithely. His nerves were still a little raw and the last thing he needed was for others to remind him about how close to death he could have been. “We lost two guards and, if the expression on Arthur’s face is anything to go by, whoever was responsible got away.”

“There was no sign of him,” Arthur confirmed. “Jessan thought he saw something in the hallway that leads to the guest chambers, but he found only a bit of smoke and what looked to be the aftermath of someone dropping a candle.”

“Transportation spell,” Merlin and James said at the same time. Arthur furrowed his brow at the casual yet certain tone they both used, but Merlin ignored him for a moment to ask, “Is it possible that a spell like that could affect the portal?”

“It would certainly explain the change of colour you reported,” James agreed. “Unfortunately, our Lady has been unable to find anything to explain that as of yet. She’s still looking, and has nearly all the scholars working on this as well, and promises to send through anything promising.”

Merlin nodded again as he processed that bit of information but, of course, it was Arthur who noticed something else and guessed, “So I take it you wish to stay here then?”

Merlin looked to the small bag of gear at James’ feet and realised that should have been self-explanatory from the start. The man was nearly as obnoxious as Arthur when it came to certain things, and his perceived need for safety and well-being and such always ranked right at the top of his list. As if Merlin could not take care of himself or something ridiculous like that. James knew firsthand just how well Merlin could watch out for himself, and for others. The knight had seen Merlin in action, unrestrained by the need to hide his Gifts, and yet felt the need to act like a protective older brother. It was rather annoying at times, though even Merlin had to admit it may have been welcome just that once with that tiny little incident with the arrow and the mage.

Proving his point, James replied, “Master Emrys was nearly killed and your own life is still at risk, sire. It is my duty to ensure the safety of you both, at least until this issue can be resolved.”

Merlin wanted to comment on the fact that he was fine and it was his duty to protect Arthur and quite a bit of other things, but stopped himself, knowing he would reveal far too much. “Let me get my boots,” he said instead. “I’ll fetch enough breakfast for all of us and then we can get to work. Can I trust you two alone long enough for you not to kill each other?”

“I would never harm the heir to the Pendragon throne,” James insisted. As an aside to Merlin and a hint at the man he had grown to be friends with during his time on the other side, he added, “Unless of course they grew corrupted by magic and were a risk to the people of Camelot and needed to be put down like a dog, but I trust that should not happen during your short absence.”

Merlin laughed but Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin could tell he relaxed slightly though, likely finally seeing more than just the warrior before him and maybe finally seeing him as a man or a potential ally if not at least the friend of someone he trusted instead. “I’ll restrain myself,” he answered, strolling over to the bench from the previous night and making a show of sitting down. Merlin did not miss the way his eyes traced the line of soot and ash, or the way they lingered on the smear from the shirt the night before.

That settled, Merlin changed his trousers, pulled on his boots, and carefully tied his scarf about his neck to hide the talisman. He left to fetch enough food for three people, making up a story as to just how famished Arthur was from chasing down shadows to explain the need for a little more than usual being added to the platter. He need not have worried though, as no one questioned why the prince’s manservant asked for an extra loaf of bread, or even cheese to be added. The cook winked at him and tucked his favourite type of sweet roll into napkin as well.

He returned to find Arthur and James quietly arguing, something he felt was about to become a common theme to his life, but listened in long enough to discover it was a research-based argument and not a discussion on the fundamental like or dislike or magic as he had feared. They settled when they saw him, and settled even more when the food was laid out before them. James seemed slightly upset at the way Arthur just set about making a plate for himself with no regards to Merlin’s needs, until he realised the prince left more than a fair share behind and that share included some of Merlin’s favourites.

When Merlin pulled out the sweet roll, Arthur smiled fondly, likely knowing the way the cooks coddled his servant, but James looked at it curiously. “Is that...?” he asked.

Merlin nodded and swallowed the large bite he had just taken to reply, “Yes, and it’s delicious. Try some.” He tore off a piece and offered it to the only slightly reluctant knight.

The moment the confection hit James’ palate, his eyes lit up in delight. “Now I see what you meant!” he exclaimed. “The breads Merian makes are quite similar, but this...”

“Just has that little extra, doesn’t it?” Merlin finished for him. He popped the last piece into his mouth and reached first for some cheese and then for some water, motioning for James to do the same. He had no idea when the knight last ate, or even what time it was when he left, but figured that a trip through the portal tended to make himself feel a bit off, and food was always good for righting that, not to mention they would likely have another long day before them and could use a good start to keep them on task and focused.

The platter had been reduced to scraps by the time they truly got started on their work. Arthur was called out for a conference with his father about the latest attack, and both Merlin and James used the brief respite to send a message to Morgana confirming the knight’s safe arrival, though Merlin suspected James added a bit about just who had technically been at risk the night before as well, especially when he looked up guiltily as he rolled up his own small scroll.

Gaius returned before Arthur did, and took the opportunity to first lecture Merlin and James on the dangers and foolishness of the visit, and then to demand everything the other side had learned thus far that Merlin may or may not have already passed on to him. He took the knowledge, and several scrolls, back to the lab he had set up in the armoury, and Merlin played go between to keep James updated as they were fairly certain it would not be safe for him to be seen.

Arthur did eventually return, only to grimly announce that a laundress had come across what she thought was an interestingly coloured kerchief, only to discover it was soaked through with the poison instead. Gaius had that now and was running further experiments on the cloth, both to determine the remaining ingredients and to hopefully find a way to nullify it if not cure someone who had been infected. Merlin noted with interest that Arthur did not mention if the kerchief had belonged to anyone in particular, or if the entire thing had been planted to expose yet another person to the poison.

He was beginning to agree with the chaos theory – that there were no specific targets as this way no one knew who was truly at risk and everyone lived their life in the shadow of fear. Arthur had set up additional patrols along the borders after finally agreeing with James’ earlier assessment, but declared that there was nothing thus far to indicate an imminent attack.

Merlin disagreed with that. There were enough stirrings, a sense of push and pull against his magic, which made him think that the attack may not be fully physical, but it would no doubt be just as devastating. He could not come right out and say that though, but he planned to bring up his concerns with James the next time Arthur was called away, which could not be too soon. The prince was helpful, yet hindering at the same time. He did not do well with a lack of action and likely would have volunteered to patrol the border himself had he not thought the castle was at greater risk at this time. The border was a calculated risk, solely speculation until the first hint of attack came. The castle had already been hit far too many times, and there was no way he was going to leave the heart of his home undefended if given the choice.

Arthur was to dine with his father that evening and at first Merlin rejoiced at the thought of speaking freely with James once more. Then he realised Arthur intended he attend him at the meal, as was technically his job after all, and had to offer a rough apology to James, knowing he would likely have a conversation about someone with his Gifts in such a lowly position once again.

The positive side of waiting on Arthur that evening was that he finally got a firsthand account of the latest castle gossip. The cooks blathered on while he waited for the courses, and the maids told tales as they both wiped up the unfortunate spills and awaited the final clearing of the table. He learned Gwen was sharing a room with Mairiad, a young woman about her own age that also had family in the lower town. A message was sent with one of the patrols to explain the maid’s absence to her father, but to promise it was with her safety in mind. The father had been grateful as, though he missed out on any scraps his daughter may bring home as a bonus to her wages, he knew she was alive and well and that was far more important.

Merlin also had the chance to overhear the majority of the king and the prince’s conversation on the matters of the assassin and the perceived threat to the castle. Arthur very carefully avoided just how they deduced the possibility of a magical ingredient, and Uther even thanked Merlin for his role after making a derisive comment about never have guessing “the boy” would have the mind to do so. The patrols were to be altered to a rotation schedule usually only used in a time of war in hopes of confusing anyone looking for a weak spot to exploit. Arthur even managed, through careful phrasing that involved no technical lie, to have his father believe that there was likely something the intruder found important in the physician’s chambers and that is why he appeared there to attack the guards.

The king assumed the likelihood of an antidote, and Arthur did nothing to correct him. As Uther believed Gaius was most likely to discover one, he ordered Gaius’ location more heavily protected by moving several of his top knights to temporary quarters nearby, and the actual physician’s chambers to have more obvious guards though only Merlin was to reside there to keep the rouse. Merlin was even directed to make the room appear to have several experiments going, though only harmless ones that were in actuality the equivalent of brewing tea.

That worked fine enough for Merlin, who fully planned to have experiments going, and not just of the tea sort. He had a suspicion as to how to isolate the actual poisonous portion of the compound based in part on something Gaius mentioned and something he saw Morgana attempt during his visit to the other side. Yes, it involved magic as well, but he could do that part while Arthur was otherwise occupied, and the remainder should just look like prettily coloured water dripping into a vial.

When dinner was finally over, Arthur dragged Merlin up to his chambers before he had a chance to steal some of the leftovers for himself. Door soundly shut and the room given a once over to make certain there was no hidden eyes or ears, Arthur turned to him and said, “Do not do anything stupid tonight.”

“Thanks, really,” Merlin replied acerbically. “You pulled me in here for that?”

Arthur huffed and leaned back against the table as he explained, “I mean, whatever experiment, whatever fancy thing that you want to try when you think I won’t be around to stop you – don’t do it.”

Merlin was a little surprised that he had figured that much out to be honest, but had to remember this was Arthur, prince of the land and leader of armies he was talking to. Even he spotted a clue from time to time. “Arthur, I-” he started, but was cut off.

“With James’ love of magic and your love for incompetence, there is no way anything good can come from it,” Arthur told him curtly. “You need someone to reel you in and, if Gaius is not available, that person will need to be me. Under normal circumstances, I would suggest Gwen, but she does not know, nor does she need to know, about James at this time. Just, please, think before you jump in and, if there is any risk at all, don’t do it.”

Merlin blinked. Arthur had just said please. Arthur had just said please, to him even. It made him almost want to promise he would do what he said, wait patiently and not make the advances he knew he could if only given the chance and the freedom to do so, but instead he hedged with, “I will not do anything I have not done countless times before without the proper supervision, you have my word.”

Arthur nodded as though that were more than enough, but then paused, one eyebrow rose curiously, and asked, “Wait, are you saying you will only do things with the proper supervision, or you will only do things you know you can get away with without any supervision at all?”

Merlin had kind of hoped he would not catch that, and was quite glad he had already turned towards the door so he had a chance to school his features before he replied, “Arthur, trust me, I know what I’m doing. The only thing I want to do tonight at all is a simple filtration and I will use all the correct precautions.”

Arthur relented and let him leave with orders to stop by the kitchens for his own meal, which was something he had been planning on doing anyway. The cook, dear that she was, had saved a plate for him, covered though now cold, with some of the best parts of the leftovers. He thanked her, she pinched his cheek and told him once again how much he reminded her of her eldest son, and he ran off to share his bounty with a waiting James while he outlined his plan for the remainder of the evening.

Of course this meant that Arthur was less than amused when, upon his arrival in the physician’s chambers the following morning, his eyes immediately found the blackened mess fused to the wooden table. “Merlin...” he warned.

“It was only a small fire!” Merlin insisted, not understanding why this did not seem to help matters in the least. “We put it out immediately and there was no real damage to anything!”

Arthur looked to the table and then over to the red marks on Merlin’s flailing hands that he had forgotten to tuck under his arms and away from view. “A simple filtration? Correct precautions?” he seethed.

James rose from his spot at the edge of Gaius’ usual cot where he had spent the night, ready to step in if need be, but Merlin waved off his assistance. “It was minor, no worse than what Gaius himself has done in the past, and we managed to isolate the most toxic and poisonous portion of the mixture, which will greatly help in determining the antidote,” Merlin rushed to explain.

That seemed to mollify Arthur, at least a bit, and at least until he looked back to the table that Merlin was proudly gesturing to. “For the love of... Please say you did not put this isolated and deadly contaminate in a tea cup,” he near pleaded.

Merlin looked back down to see what he was going on about and rolled his eyes. “No, that’s breakfast. The toxin is in the vial next to it,” he clarified.

Arthur eyed it warily before he shook his head and sighed, “Do try to keep the two separated?” As an afterthought, he added, “And tea is not a sufficient breakfast, I’ll have something sent up at once.”

Arthur did just that, but left James and Merlin to their task as he was to sit in council that morning and train with the knights that afternoon. He made James promise to keep Merlin out of trouble, and had a selection of the toxin siphoned off for Gaius to work with, stating two approaches were more likely to reach a solution than only one. Merlin did not have the heart to tell him it was technically three approaches as he had already sent a vial through to Morgana prior to his arrival, but thought that was likely another thing they would just fight over anyway, so he was simply avoiding the hassle and the possible delay of Arthur from his duties by neglecting to mention that part.

Merlin and Gaius had managed to nullify two of the three natural poisons, and Merlin had a lead on how to counter the magical one, when Arthur returned from patrol to check on him. A village to the north had reported that game seemed scarcer in recent days, but had seen nothing untoward to date. This could mean either that the migration patterns had changed slightly, or that there were others in the woods taking up the land that the game would normally roam through. Arthur and the few men with him gave it a quick once over, but found nothing. To be on the safe side, he ordered a slightly larger patrol for the evening and the following days, but he honestly could not tell if they were chasing spirits at this point, or James’ warning was coming true.

Merlin assisted him in donning his armour for training, and Arthur insisted on walking him back to the workroom before he left, reminding him again to be careful and to keep James away from the guards.

That was, of course, when they noticed a commotion in the passageway outside of the very room they were headed for. One guard was already collapsed to the floor in a puddle of his own blood, and the second was holding on to someone with a familiar cloak, but a different face.

“That is not the same man,” Merlin announced. This had the unfortunate side effect of surprising both guard and captive. They would have been on even terms as the guard held his ground, but a second man in a near identical cloak with a familiar scar stepped through the doorway to join the fray.

The guard was stabbed, but there were no immediate black lines or green residue to be seen in the quick look that Merlin spared him. He hoped this meant that he would survive, even though he knew it was likely wishful thinking, but had greater concerns at the moment as he was now close enough to see into the room.

The portal glowed a fiery red and James lay splayed across the table, clutching at an arm that dripped freely with its wounds. He did not stay there for long, however, as he grabbed his fallen blade and challenged the duo that clearly intended to return to their own realm. His grip was weak though, and footing unsteady. One man challenged him while the other dove through the glowing curtain and disappeared from view.

Arthur and Merlin ran to James’ aid, Arthur grabbing the man off of him while Merlin surreptitiously used magic to make certain the possibly tainted knife left his hands in the process. It was not enough, as the man growled a spell Merlin himself had used more than once, and Arthur was tossed away from him in a burst of gold.

Arthur pushed to his feet and took off after him, Merlin at his heels, both of them barely registering the portal settling back to its usual state as concerned as they were at catching the apparent assassin. The man stepped through to the other side, there one moment and gone the next, and Arthur did not even pause in his stride as he followed, ignoring Merlin’s protesting calls.

A glance to James to prove he was not only alive, but back on his feet again, and Merlin stepped through as well, knowing that the knight would follow. The now familiar feeling of all of reality swirling and condensing around him, pressing in only to release him in a twirl of colours, washed over him. His momentum carried him through, feet feeling solid ground beneath him and stuttering to a stop as he took in the scene before him.

The guards that had been assigned to the portal in the other realm were busy trying to restrain both the cloaked man and, unfortunately, Arthur. Merlin understood that they did not recognise him as a possible sovereign or even ally, but feared Arthur was not going to be quite as forgiving, especially as he was currently trying to both resist and attack the other traveller.

“He’s with me,” Merlin called, grabbing Arthur back before he inadvertently injured someone. Surprisingly enough, Arthur allowed it, right up until he took a defensive position in front of Merlin, sword still firmly in hand. Merlin rolled his eyes and gestured to the other man, and advised, “He is not.”

The guards nodded, more than one offering a comment of, “Apologies, Master Emrys,” before turning as one to attempt to disarm the would-be assassin. Unfortunately, the man had taken full use of the distraction and had already taken down one of the guards who had managed to lay a hand on him and was challenging the others. His dagger was gone, but he still had his sword and it appeared he was quite skilled with the weapon.

Blades clashed, curses were uttered, and talismans shone brightly. Before Merlin could edge around Arthur to hopefully both protect him and surreptitiously use magic to take the attacker down, and additional distraction was added to the fight as James finally stumbled through, clutching both his arm and his sword, disoriented for a moment, but more than ready to fight if needed.

The assassin used the distraction to push through the guards and head towards the doorway that led to the main passageway. Merlin reached for him, but found Arthur in his way. Not having a talisman or any other magical enhancements, Arthur was easily thrown back against a wall with a single word. Merlin’s instinct was to turn to check on him, but that impulse cost him. His right side exploded in pain, bright and hot, and he looked down dumbly at the slash across his now exposed skin before trying to take a single step towards the now fleeing man and feeling his knees strike the hard stone floor instead.

He heard Arthur calling his name, and watched James chase the man out into the hallway, but everything seemed surreal as his fingers slipped and slide against the warmth dripping down his side.

There were hands on him, gloved and accompanied by the jangle of armour as they moved. He was lowered to the floor and the hands pressed against his side, the pain intensifying with every push and prod. “Merlin!” Arthur breathed. “Are you- of course you are not okay, stupid question. The blade, was it? I don’t see the poison but...”

Merlin was not certain how to reply. He was not certain if he was even capable of replying at all. Simply breathing hurt, and he did not know if he should concentrate on the pain, on Arthur’s words, or on the feeling of his life pouring through his fingers.

There was the pounding of boots, the shadow of others hovering above him. He heard someone, possibly Lionel, call out orders to send for the Healer. There were new footsteps, and the shadows parted. He forced himself to focus when James leaned down next to him, but was more than a little disappointed when he heard him say, “He got away ,Master Emrys. He used a spell as soon as he was clear of the wards of the room. He would have ended up in the castle still, but was likely close enough to an exit to escape.”

Merlin grabbed at him, the blood on his hand smearing across James’ injuries. “You’re alive? He didn’t use the poison?”

James looked almost sheepish as he admitted, “I had knocked his knife away, but he managed to get the one you had left on the table; that is what he attacked me with.”

Merlin nodded even though the slight action hurt. No poison, only harmless herbs and maybe some cheese left over from that morning. He grasped weakly at his tunic, pulling it free from his own injury. He could not see it himself, not without a great deal more pain, so he asked, “And mine?”

He watched as both James and Arthur examined the wound, seeing the identical expressions of relief before James replied, “There is no black, and no trace of the green.”

“He must not have had it on his sword,” Arthur explained. He had tugged Merlin’s scarf free and pressed it against the gash now as he added, “We still need to get you treatment, but at least you shouldn’t die before there’s even a chance.”

Merlin returned Arthur’s grim smile, understanding what he meant even if James looked aghast at the dark humour. His vision was growing darker around the edges, and he knew there was a very good chance he would not remain conscious for much longer, or at least coherent. He licked his lips and willed himself to speak as clearly as possible as he turned to James and ordered, “Keep him away from the Lady, at least until I have a chance to explain a few things.”

“It will be done, Master Emrys,” James promised, ignoring Arthur’s protests.

Merlin trusted his word as much as he trusted the Healer’s ability to do everything possible to save him. That is why he allowed his eyes to slip close, though full unconsciousness appeared to be out of reach at the moment. He remembered being moved, being held up and then lowered onto what was likely a travois of some sort. He remembered the light then dark of the torches in the hallways as he passed. He remembered the feeling of his second favourite tunic being cut off of him and a familiar voice tsking while Arthur’s complaining voice drifted in and out in the background. Finally, he remembered the heat of magic against his wound and the coolness of a bitter liquid being dripped across his lips. After that, he did not remember much at all.

When he finally awoke, he was far more comfortable than he thought he had any right to be. His head was pillowed on something soft, and something smooth and cool rested against his skin. There was a dull throbbing ache in his side, but nothing like the sharp agony from before.

He prised his eyes open to find himself surrounded by silks and satins in hues of blue, the orange glow of a setting sun filtering in through the stained glass windows to his left. That same light cast odd shadows on the slouched form of Arthur in a heavy wooden chair to his right. The prince had apparently managed to remove some of his armour, but had retained his hauberk even in the sanctity of the castle.

Arthur perked up when he saw him glance in his direction, sitting up a bit straighter only to lean over the side of the bed to needlessly check Merlin’s temperature, the back of his hand feeling chilled against Merlin’s temple for a moment before he commented, “Took you long enough to wake up.”

Merlin licked his lips, tasting the sticky residue of the drug he had been given. “It’s that tonic of Gaius’. Makes me sleep like the dead,” he explained. He wondered if there was any water available, and if he could talk Arthur into getting some for him.

“Yeah, thank you for the warning that he was going to be here,” Arthur said with narrowed eyes. “I thought it was our own Gaius until I realised he did not recognise me. Do I even want to know who else is here? Or who this mysterious ‘Lady’ is that you don’t want me to meet?”

Merlin tried to push himself up into more of a sitting position, but regretted the action when the ache reawakened into something far more severe. With Arthur’s help he managed though, slightly embarrassed to find he wore no tunic or nightshirt beneath the sheet, only white bandages with the faintest tinge of red.

“That’s why I asked James to keep you away from the others until I had a chance to explain,” he told Arthur in his somewhat raspy voice. “Gaius was unavoidable as he is the Healer here, but I figured you would want explanations more than surprises.”

Arthur nodded, but did not press the issue. Instead, he stood and stretched and began to pace the somewhat opulent room. “They definitely seem to favour you here,” he commented with a wave to the fine fabrics and woodwork that surrounded them. “I think this was Lord Breckenwith’s chamber during his last visit back home, though I do not recall him ever having an affinity for silk.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the gentle teasing, knowing full well who decorated the chamber and her feelings on Merlin’s personal tastes. He felt that such commentary could quite possibly be used as a gentle lead in to introduce just who all was here on this side and the rolls they played, but had barely opened his mouth before there was a knock on the heavy oak door.

Arthur, of course, reached for his sword, despite the fact that they were guests in a place near enough to home and the only threat thus far had been one they had brought with them through the portal. At Merlin’s hoarse call, James appeared, arm neatly bandaged beneath his crisp linen shirt.

“Ah, good, you are awake, Master Emrys,” he greeted him. “We had hoped as much, but know how you do not always take to the tonics.”

He strode in further and tilted his head to someone behind him to do the same. A serving boy that was perhaps half the age of Merlin followed, arms laden with a platter of covered dishes. He set the platter down on the table at the foot of the bed, brown eyes wide when he took in the sight of Arthur still brandishing his sword. Arthur sheepishly lowered it and set it aside and the boy quietly asked, “Did you need help with your hauberk, sir? I can have one of the seamstresses search for alternate clothing if you so desire.”

Arthur looked down at his training ensemble and shook his head. “I am fine,” he told the boy, moving back to his chair at the side of the bed. Merlin was not fooled; he knew that Arthur had just wanted rights to the location before James took it for himself.

James gave a wry grin to let Merlin know he knew the true reason for the positioning as well. He did not seem to mind though as uncovered the dishes with his good arm and let the tantalizing smells waft in their direction. “I believe you liked these, if memory serves correctly,” he said, gesturing to the meats and breads. With a wave to the room around him, he added, “And I hope you do not mind, but we put you in the same room as your last visit. We thought something at least a little familiar would be better than waking to the unknown.”

“It is appreciated,” Merlin agreed, though he could not help but glance repeatedly over to the table and its burden. When his stomach growled loud enough for the others to hear, he knew the game was up.

He reached to remove the blanket and swing his feet to the side, but was stopped by a glare from Arthur, who chided, “Oh, for... stay there and I will get it for you.” The prince left his special little chair and stalked over to the table muttering something about pulling stitches and ripping open wounds, and possible something about incompetence.

Merlin rolled his eyes, trusting Gaius’ work to hold steady, especially when it involved more than simple thread. It was James’ turn to scold, however, as he said, “You should not be on your feet quite yet, Master Emrys. Give your injury a chance to heal before you rush off again.” He handed Merlin a goblet of what appeared to be simple tea. It felt like an elixir upon his throat though, and he hoped both his smile and downing of the contents showed his appreciation.

“Rush off and do something stupid,” Arthur guessed, earning a foul look from James. Merlin knew the words were not said in actual insult however, as the tone was too fond and paired with the gift of a plateful of his favourites that only looked vaguely pre-tasted.

James pulled over a second chair and encouraged Arthur to partake of the meal as well, though he still seemed upset at the way Arthur spoke to Merlin. He updated them both on the efforts to locate the attacker and on the finalization of an antidote for the poison. One guard was killed, and another wounded similarly to Merlin, but there was no trace of the poison in any of the wounds, which led to the conclusion that either only the smaller blades were treated or the poison needed to be reapplied regularly for full effectiveness. Given that it was found on items simply left out for others to happen across in their own realm, Arthur was of the belief that it was simply applied as needed, and neither James nor Merlin could find fault with that argument.

Arthur also expressed concern over being in this realm for too long as he feared his absence would rouse his father’s suspicions and possibly his wrath. Merlin tried to remind him about time working differently between the two realms, but understood how it really did not make a lot of sense unless you experienced it for yourself, which was something Arthur would not be able to do until their return.

Arthur also tried repeatedly to dig for information about the ways and wants of this other side. He asked questions, but not the right ones. He seemed to think only the differences and the acceptance of magic were the important things, and Merlin wanted to stress the similarities and the fact that, just because something was acceptable did not make it the norm. It was hard to concentrate though, and Merlin doubted it was just from the lingering effects of Gaius’ tonic.

“Did you drug me, James?” he asked. His head lolled back against the pillows and he had the distinct feeling that his words were slurred.

Arthur immediately went on the defensive, but James shook his head. “No, but Gaius himself made that tea, so it is entirely possible he did,” he admitted. Arthur subsided only slightly and James began to clear away the dishes, adding, “It is likely for the best though. You need to rest, Master Emrys, and we both know the chances of that happening.”

Arthur snorted, and this time not just at the title. “Merlin never listens to what he is told,” he agreed. There was the slightest hint to his tone that Merlin recognised as falsely congenial. He was pretending to be at ease, but was still concerned about the drugging, likely because he also consumed the food. He should know by now that Gaius always preferred to enhance the liquids as they absorbed his various tinctures best.

“That is true enough,” James concurred. “But that failure to listen has served us well in the past.” At Arthur’s questioning look, he continued, “We had drawn up plans and set our army in motion, only to have to backtrack because Master Emrys had a thought and that thought led us to the true culprit. Mind you, the way he determined that culprit was by nearly being captured by him and run through, but it all ended well at the close of the day.”

“Took him out and saved you all,” Merlin yawned, remembering the day in question. There was fire and lightning and magic that flowed through him so free and uninhibited. The rush had been incredible, but also reminded him how easy it would be to fall under magic’s control and lose his own control in the process.

“Of course you did,” Arthur said in an obviously placating tone. He even went so far as to pat him on the knee like he would a small, and possibly infirm, child.

Merlin frowned, but could not fully conjure the energy to glare. “Save you all the time, so why not them?” he muttered. His eyes were drifting shut again, and he was having trouble picking up the various expressions Arthur wore, so he could not tell what his reaction was without words.

James seemed to understand, or at least felt for him, and offered, “Why don’t we leave the sleeping man alone?”

“Not asleep yet,” Merlin protested, but knew his words would be ignored, if they were even understood.

“You will be soon enough,” James assured him. He helped Merlin get settled and tucked a new talisman in his hand, which made Merlin quite belatedly realise his previous one had been removed, likely by Gaius. “Our Lady fears the last one did all it could offer and more, and requests you use this one,” he whispered.

“Liked the last one, it was good,” Merlin protested, right up until the charm touched his skin. His very being seemed to respond to it and its energy seemed to meld directly with everything he ever was. “This one’s warm, comfortable,” he commented, knowing he was being contrary and not fully caring. He felt the gentle pull of power in the last one, but this one was like an enhancement to his own energy, while still somehow being separate and protective of that same energy. He did not fully understand it, but he did rather like it.

“She said she saw a vision and knew it would be the right one for you,” James agreed. He took a blanket from the end of the bed and spread that atop the thin sheet, offering a final comment of, “Magic borne of magic; you are doubly blessed.”

Merlin spared a thought of what Arthur would think of such things, but figured he would find out soon enough. He had been fine with the last one, but how far would that acceptance stretch? He decided there may be a delay in that discovery as he overheard Arthur arguing with James in hushed tones that no separate room was necessary, and that he would stay here to watch over Merlin as much, if not more so, than some random bauble.

James was protesting, but not enough to win the squabble, and it was not long before Merlin heard an overly dramatic sigh and a relenting, “As you wish then, so long as it does not disturb Master Emrys’ rest.”

There was the familiar almost tinkling sound of the links of the hauberk shifting against each other as the armour was removed, and the thud of boots hitting the stone floor, slightly muffled from what were likely the plush rugs that Morgana preferred. A little more dithering about, and there was the slight dip of the mattress as Arthur settled upon it. A shift as blankets we adjusted, and then there was the feeling of a warm and callused hand resting lightly atop his wrist. He vaguely wondered if he needed to worry about stabbing himself with the sword that was undoubtedly nearby in the middle of the night, but settled for a final yawn and a whispered, “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Just... go to sleep, Merlin,” Arthur replied, but notably did not remove his hand.

With a final smile at the thought of Arthur being Arthur, prat and all, Merlin surrendered to sleep.

He awoke to the smells of even more food, the absence of Arthur at his side, and absolutely no mention of the protectiveness from the night before. The sun was back, as was James, and he and Arthur had apparently been carrying on a conversation of some sort while Merlin remained dead to the world. They seemed amiable enough about it, but one never could tell with nobles, especially with nobles of the Pendragon family, so Merlin knew he should probably approach the situation cautiously and feel it out around the edges before diving in and destroying any truce they may have formed.

Of course, that went right out the proverbial window when he attempted his usual morning stretch and his side reminded him of his activities from the day before.

He did not think he made a noise, but he must have because both men were instantly there, one checking the bandage while the other checked on him and he really could not tell who was who through the haze. He felt a cup at his lips and dutifully drank and hoped whatever it held was as fast-acting as the rest of Gaius’ wares.

“Is this going to put me to sleep again?” he muttered when he could find the words.

“I should hope not,” James replied, setting the cup off to the side. “You are wanted in the Council chambers as soon as you are ready. There has been a development that may prove quite enlightening.”

Merlin knew that this meant two very important things. The first was that it was to be an official review in front of as many members of the court as currently present in Camelot. The second was that it was time to reveal to Arthur just who those members of the court were, and the roles they played.

Somehow he doubted this was going to go over well.

“Clothing?” he asked, knowing it would be provided. Though there were some notable differences in this realm, one did not appear in front of the Council half-naked or wearing only bloodstained and torn cloth unless it was a truly dire emergency. Mixed that with the fact Morgana had tried to get him to take several tunics back with him last time and he had declined knowing he would not be able to explain the sudden newfound wealth away, and he figured there was a very good chance his needs would be provided for.

“Over here,” James replied, motioning to the small armoire in the room. He opened the door and pulled out a tunic and a pair of trousers at random, and Merlin could see the fine embroidery along the hems from where he lay.

He dressed with the assistance of both men, joking to Arthur about the role reversal though Arthur only offered the faintest of smirks at the jibe. He shoved his feet into his usual boots only to have them properly tightened before he could wave off the attentions. Finally, he was allowed to the table where he pulled together a quick breakfast of bread and cheese washed down with more tea.

“Okay,” he said around a bite of crusty bread. “Some very important things you need to know if you are going to attend this Council meeting with me,” he addressed Arthur.

“I have attended Council meetings before,” Arthur reminded him, and Merlin could hear the eye roll in his tone even if he refrained from actually doing it.

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “The chamber is set up much like ours, but the sides will be lined with known sorcerers as well as noblemen. You will be able to tell them apart by their robes and usually some sort of pageantry that they will insist upon but is likely totally unnecessary. Do try not to run them through.”

Arthur tensed slightly, but nodded and motioned for Merlin to continue. He could only imagine what it would be like to be raised to think magic was the be-all and end-all of evil, and then to have to willingly walk into a room full of it and do absolutely nothing about it.

As much as for a distraction from that thought as for the sake of expediency, Merlin continued, “You will recognise the royal family. You must remember that they will not recognise you.” With a breath to steady himself, he figured he might as well get the worst of it over with and rushed to explain, “Morgana is a ward of the court here as she is at home. She is the Lady of whom I have been speaking of.”

“Morgana?” Arthur asked, blinking as he took in this piece of information. He shook his head. “But you said, or at least strongly implied...”

“That she has magic? Yes,” Merlin finished for him. He bit his lip at the expected outburst, but found Arthur was more overwhelmed than anything else. He could see him trying to fit the pieces together, but his bias against magic so clearly stood in the way. “Think about our Morgana at home, and the dreams she always went on about, the dreams that were like visions and kept her from her rest.”

Arthur looked up at him, a hint of realization dawning upon his featured. “But those were...”

“Those were dimmed with droughts that Gaius has been giving her since she first came into her Gift,” Merlin finished bluntly. He knew he revealed too much, of Gaius’ involvement and knowledge and of his own complacency in the deception. “The Gaius of our realm did not want to take the risk that your father’s hatred of magic would encompass even his own ward, even for something she herself could not control. He hid this from your father, and he hid this from Morgana herself. I discovered it only because she spoke to me of her visions, and of how often they came true.”

“So the Morgana here is a seer?” Arthur guessed, the word seeming almost painful for him to pronounce.

Merlin shook his head. “She’s so much more than that,” he corrected. “Her Gift was never reined in, but nurtured and allowed to flourish. She was taught how to control it instead of suppress it, and learned so much more in the process.”

“Without your birth, she is also the sole heir to the throne of Camelot,” James added for him. Merlin spared him a glance. He had been getting to that part, really he had, but thought he would ease into it, or possibly avoid it until the last possible moment. There was enough for Arthur to take in right now that the addition of the fact his surrogate sister stood to inherit the lands promised to be his might just be a little too much for him to handle.

Arthur though, proved that he was a prince, through and through. And possibly someone who understood the woman he was raised with. He straightened slightly and offered, “Then we best not keep her delegation waiting, you know how tetchy she can be when she doesn’t get her way.”

Merlin agreed, but it was actually Arthur himself who caused the delay. He knew of proper court decorum, had been raised on it really, and knew that walking in on a Council session clad only in his practice gear would not make the best of first impressions. He had scrubbed down previously, but now donned one of the tunics James offered, insisting on keeping his belt and sword though, something neither James nor Merlin really questioned. Merlin figured it was better than storming in fully armed and guessed that either James felt the same or was accustomed to the quirks of royalty and warriors by now and expected no less.

Clothed properly and with enough of Gaius’ tea in him to dull the persistent ache in his side, he let James lead the way to the chamber while Arthur followed at his side. It was an odd feeling, really. Arthur was, in a sense, deferring to Merlin; the prince following his servant instead of the other way around. This was Merlin’s place though, he was the known and had rights, and Arthur was but his guest as far as this realm was concerned. Perhaps he could be seen as a visiting prince or dignitary if given the chance, but this was not his home, no matter how much it looked the part.

The door opened to the chamber and it was exactly how Merlin pictured it to be. The nobles lined either side of the long table, parchment and scrolls spread about, half in robes with elaborate golden embroidery and half in the usual finer cloths of the upper caste. Morgana sat in the seat usually reserved for Arthur, and offered a smile and nod at his arrival. The king sat at the head of the table, only glancing up when their presence was announced, and he gestured for them to approach.

“Master Emrys,” Uther greeted him with not a hint of derision to his tone.

“Your highness,” Merlin replied in turn. He offered a little bow and tried not to wince when the action pulled at his wound. He could feel Arthur tense at his side and could only imagine the thoughts running through his head at the moment, and how similar they were to the time Merlin first met this version of Uther, and feared any utterance would lead to his death at the stake.

“I have been advised that you have gifted our lands with an assassin this visit, how very kind of you,” Uther frowned. Now this tone was familiar, and could have come from either version of the king, reminding Merlin once again of the similarities between the realms.

Only he knew that this Uther was different, that he would let Merlin have his say before he would cut him off or dismiss him, and that he was far less likely to toss Merlin in the dungeons just because he did not like what he had to offer or, possibly, his mood had changed in the time it took the younger man to speak.

“From what I can tell, this was no gift of mine,” Merlin challenged, taking a step forward. He felt the breeze at his arm as Arthur tried instinctively to hold him back, but pressed on. “The assassins, plural mind you, were seen both entering and exiting our realm through the portal. One can only assume that, if they did not originate from here, that they may have found a safe haven somewhere within these borders.”

He spared a glance at Arthur now, saw the prince’s eyes wide with surprise that Merlin would dare speak to his father in such a manner and possibly that Merlin even had the confidence to do so. Merlin was tempted to remind him that this was not his father, despite what appearances might tell him, but found it was not necessary.

Uther chuckled, and Merlin really did not think he would ever forget the incredulous expression on Arthur’s face. “Very true, Master Emrys,” Uther conceded. He waved his hand towards the mess on the table before him and continued, “We are rapidly discovering evidence to support this theory as well. Just this morning we received a message from an emissary that may be of interest to you.”

Morgana stood, a servant quickly appearing to move her chair to the side and out of her way as she approached. Her dark gown flowed behind her and she looked to Merlin with fondness and Arthur with curiosity. Apparently deciding that her inquiry could be better served later, she began, “Aglain has sent a courier from the primary Druid camp. They have come across strange occurrences in the woods to the north of our lands.”

“We have had similar reports on our side,” Merlin mused, remembering Arthur’s findings from his patrol.

“They are investigating,” Morgana reported as though he had not interrupted. “So far, they have found only the hints of a presence of others, but these hints are enough to cause concern.”

“Why?” Merlin asked. It could be simple hunters, or roving travellers, or even merchants on their way to the city. It was common enough, and usually did not mean some evil presence lurked in the shadows. Yes, the Druids knew their lands better than most, but even they should be the first to admit the possibility of simplicity over elaborate plotting. Then again, when one lived with the land, one learned the natural rhythms of that land, and if they were sensing that something was off based upon that connection, it may hold more weight than a crumpled bit of grass.

Morgana raised a carefully shaped eyebrow and explained, “Because the hints they found are all symbols and portents usually associated with the Suaimhneas.”

Merlin’s head shot up with that, and he knew Arthur’s did so as well at his side. It was James, however, that asked, “Can they be certain?”

Morgana did the royal version of a shrug which was not really a shrug at all but did serve to indicate she felt the likelihood was there. “The Suaimhneas are hermits, at least according to what we know of them. Druids who found the Druids too immersed in the outside world and wanted nothing more than to commune with nature and magic and find their inner peace for themselves. They are not much more than legend now as they are so rarely seen, but their reported knowledge of plants, herbs, and magic is unparalleled as you have found in the texts even on your side.”

“But if they are not much more than legend, how can you be certain?” Arthur asked.

“We cannot,” she replied, addressing him directly for the first time. “Which is why the matter is being investigated as I have already stated. Their symbols and sigils have been found, but their actual presence has not. Aglain and his people are searching for further evidence and hope to report back no later than this evening.”

She looked as though she wished to continue, but paused and cocked her head to the side as though something tickled the very edge of her senses. The room itself grew quiet, either out of long practice of reading her signals or sensing something themselves.

Merlin turned his head to the left as the heavy door behind Uther opened near soundlessly. He knew instantly who it was, and not just because every single advisor and nobleman stood as one only to bow their heads low in reverence.

“My queen,” Uther greeted her, standing and offering his arm to lead her fully into the room.

Ygraine curtsied daintily and allowed the action, looking resplendent in robes of fine silk and lace, a delicate coronet threaded through her pale hair. She nodded in the direction of the advisors, but her eyes instantly fell upon Merlin and held his gaze. She released her husband’s arm to gracefully glide over to the visitors, looking first to Merlin and then to Arthur and back again.

Merlin steadfastly tried to ignore Arthur’s shock at his side. He had warned him of the royal family, he was certain of it. The only problem was, he did not specifically remember mentioning his mother. Perhaps Gaius’ drought was more powerful than he thought? Perhaps Arthur would not kill him outright but take pity on his obviously addled state?

Pushing that to the side for now, Merlin concentrated on proper decorum and offered both a slightly stilted bow and a murmured, “Your highness.”

“Master Emrys,” Ygraine returned the greeting and the action with a great deal more grace. She frowned at him, however, keen eyes flitting to his side and then back up to his no doubt pale features. “You were injured?”

Merlin nodded, knowing there was no point in hiding it as she could find out more about the injury than he himself could with just the snap of her fingers. “Gaius’ treatments are, as always, effective though, and I am healing as well as can be expected,” he assured her.

The fingers snapped anyway, and a nobleman who wore the colours of the southern border instantly offered his chair. “Sit before you tire yourself, Merlin,” she commanded. She sounded so much like Arthur in that instant, that he was half expecting her to add the words “you idiot” and a gentle shove and not the offer of her own arm as though he needed delicate escorting.

The same nobleman took his arm instead and guided him to the chair, not releasing him until he was convinced he was seated properly. From his new position, Merlin could more clearly see Arthur’s expression of disbelief and he winced not from the pain of his injury, but in anticipation of the tableau about to unfold before him.

Ygraine was no fool. She arched one delicate eyebrow before turning her attentions to Arthur, looking him up and down appraisingly before asking, “This is him; this is the Pendragon son, is it not?” Her hand hovered before her, as though wanting to touch and yet afraid the action would cause the vision to melt away.

“It is,” Merlin confirmed. The room filled with hushed conversations, some excited and some fearful, all silenced by a single wave of Morgana’s hand.

Ygraine stepped closer, the queen suddenly uncertain but far from undignified as she told Arthur, almost apologetically, “You are the son I never had.”

“And you are the mother I never knew,” Arthur replied. He took her hand and kissed it as he would a visiting princess’s, his touch lingering to border on improper for anyone other than family, before reluctantly lowering his hands to his side.

“I am so sorry for your suffering,” Ygraine told him, palm now cupping his cheek.

Arthur shook his head, and Merlin noticed the way he ever so subtly leaned into the touch. “She gave everything she had for me. Though I miss the idea of what she could have been, I cannot miss what I never had.”

Ygraine swiped her thumb over the arch of his cheekbone, as if wiping away a nonexistent tear. “I never made such a sacrifice,” she admitted, voice tinged with sorrow. “Though I have often wondered what the world would have been like if I had. The portal has given us a glimpse into that world, but you have gifted me with the knowledge that I would have produced a man I would have been proud to call son.”

The silence that followed was broken by Morgana, who offered, “I have shared tales of your battles with our queen. The fighting prowess Merlin has spoken of, and James as well, and even the small glimpses I myself witnessed while a guest of your side, though you never saw me.”

“You bring honour to the Pendragon name,” Uther announced, and Merlin watched Arthur swallow heavily at the proclamation.

Matters, as always, returned to the formal issues of state and the personal and emotional subjects were pushed aside to deal with at a later time. They discussed the potential ramifications of an assassin or group of assassins travelling through the portal and jurisdiction and possible punishments to any and all caught aiding and abetting the guilty parties. This, of course, led to discussions of the differences and similarities in the legal processes of both realms. Uther was only slightly surprised to find his counterpart ruled with far less input from his nobles and with far more of an iron fist, but he had previously heard bits and pieces from both Morgana and Merlin himself, so Merlin doubted it truly came as a shock to him.

Then again, perhaps Merlin was not the best one to make judgments on others or their state of mind given his own mind’s lack of focus and concentration. He tried to follow the conversation, really he did, but he found he could care less about granary taxes and the funding of mobile armies and how they differed between the realms. It was not until he felt a hand at his shoulder and had to blink to see more than just Lord Ableman in front of him that he realised he was both slumping in his chair and tilting slightly to the side.

“You are not yet well, Master Emrys” James told him, and Merlin was embarrassed to find he currently had the full attentions of the court. “You should return to your rooms to rest.”

“You will need your energy in the coming days,” Morgana announced, and he could not tell if she was simply supporting James’ decision or if she had seen something within her visions.

He looked to Arthur, who simply asked, “Haven’t you been warned about sleeping in Council meetings in the past?” There was no heat to his tone though, and he was already standing from the chair he had been offered some time ago and holding out his arm to help Merlin to his feet.

“Go rest,” Ygraine bade. She looked to the rest of the Council pointedly and added, “I’m sure the pressing issues of an overabundance of grain can wait for another day?”

There were murmurs of agreement and Uther officially called for a recess, reminding everybody that there was nothing more they could truly do until they had additional information and that, in truth, they had simply been indulging their own curiosity about the other side. Merlin found himself pulled to his feet, hand instantly going to his side and promises of more of Gaius’ tonic awaiting him in his rooms. He was too tired and too pained to truly protest, so he said his goodbyes and shuffled away, Arthur at his side and James at his back.

He did not have the energy to change out of the finery he had been gifted with, and barely managed to pull off his boots before he collapsed to the bed, letting the softness of the pillows take his weight. Arthur poked him until he sat up enough to take a dose of whatever Gaius had left him and force a few biscuits into him, and then he surrendered to the unconscious that had been tempting him for far too long.

When he next awoke, the sun was low in the sky again and Arthur sat alone at the table. He looked up when Merlin stretched and held out a cup of something that turned out to be water. When Merlin wiped the few stray drops from his lips, he expected Arthur to lay into him about withholding information or possibly his brain-addled incompetence, but instead Arthur only offered a sorrowful quirk of his lips and said, “I wish I had known her.”

“Arthur,” Merlin swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat despite the drink. “I did not mean to keep-”

“I know you didn’t,” Arthur cut him off. He poked at the table, either playing with a splinter or attempting to create one, and said, “I could be angry, but what is the point? I was gifted with the knowledge that, somewhere, my mother is alive and well and beautiful and strong and everything I could hope her to be.” His hand stilled and Merlin had to strain to hear him whisper, “And that she is all of that because she chose not to have me.”

“Arthur!” Merlin protested, but it was too late. Arthur stood and made his way to the door and simply walked out, leaving Merlin barefoot and aching inside.

By the time Merlin made it to the door, feet still cold against the stone, Arthur was nowhere in sight. It was fairly obvious he wished to be alone, but Merlin questioned the sense in that decision. He sighed and wiped his hands across his face before deciding there were better places to be than standing only partially dressed in the middle of the draughty passageway.

He trudged back inside and settled down at the table after pulling a blanket from the bed over his shoulders to ward off the remaining chill. He poked at the fruits left out and sipped at some tepid tea and thought about how best to get Arthur to understand that this was not his fault and this was but one possibility of what life would have been like had his mother made a different choice. He and Gaius had discussed this very thing when the portal first appeared, about how a single choice may lead to another and then to another and how any and all of these could lead to worlds entirely different from what they knew now.

He knew Arthur’s moods though, and knew this was probably not the best time to bring up the subject, even if Arthur had not stormed off to sulk in private. Arthur needed to work through this on his own for a bit, at least enough for his gut emotional response to die down, before he would be ready to talk and possibly reach an understanding that he could cope with, if not like.

His thoughts had moved on to just how a supposedly peaceful and quiet group such as the Suaimhneas could possibly be tied in to the possibility of assassins and death and whether such a change would have occurred on this side or his own when he heard the door creak open behind him. There was the soft and slightly hesitant brush of footfalls against the rug and Merlin did not bother to look up as he asked, “Are you ready to talk then? Or at least share company while we wait for news?”

When he was only answered with silence, he feared Arthur’s sulk had reached epic proportions. “Look,” he sighed. “We do not even have to discuss your family, on either side. We can talk about hunting and your love for shooting tiny furry creatures for all I care, just come and share some tea and I can see if we can get something stronger for you with our meal,” he offered.

When there was still no answer, he huffed and turned slightly in his chair to look over his shoulder to discover that it was not Arthur at his door, but it was someone else he recognised.

“Traitor!” the man with the scar and the cloak accused. His blade rose high in the air in preparation of attack and Merlin’s eyes instantly found the green against the gleam of metal.

He pushed himself to his feet only to find the blanket tangled around him hindering the move. The knife was arcing downward towards him though, so he threw himself to the side, shoulder connecting with the floor for one brief jarring moment before he was able to roll free of both the blanket and the continued attack. Hands now free, he held them before him, feeling the magic in his blood and in the air, wondering why he had not noticed it before when it was so obvious now.

Another swing and another dodge and Merlin really did not want to continue this game, not when he clearly did not have the upper hand with his injuries and sluggishness. The fire came to his palms with nary a whisper and cascaded towards the assassin who was able to block the first bout but not the second and whose cloak was soon lit with flames.

Another incantation, this one not Merlin’s, and the fire was out and the cloak lay on the floor in a smouldering mess. The man’s hand was on him now, trying to hold him in place while he brought the knife down. Merlin pushed him off both physically and magically and flung the blade as far away from him as possible while he was distracted. The man reached for his fallen weapon anyway, but decided against it when the rush of footsteps echoed down the hallway and into the room. “This is not over,” he growled before using what Merlin was now thinking of as his default transportation spell to disappear just as the guards burst into the room.

James was only moments behind, but reached Merlin first while the others dealt with the cloak and the weapon, heeding the words of caution not to touch the residue. “Are you alright?” he demanded, checking Merlin over for injury.

“Fine,” Merlin wheezed. He waved a hand in the direction of the lingering smoke and sizzle and lamented, “But he got away.”

James’ hand brushed against the slice in his side and Merlin staggered from the burst of pain. The knight’s fingers came away stained red and he shook his head as he offered, “Perhaps not so fine?” He glanced around the room and asked, “Where is your prince?”

Figuring it was probably best not to say Arthur was off sulking, Merlin told him, “He needed time and space to cope with everything he learned today.”

“He left you alone while you slept?” James asked, aghast. He looked to the crumpled blanket to the cloak to the knife in horror.

Merlin shook his head and tried to reassure him. “No, he waited until I woke up,” he insisted. Trying to get him to focus on a more pressing threat than leaving a perfectly capable sorcerer to deal with a sorcerer, he added, “But we need to make sure this was the only attack. He prefers the parapet on the eastern tower when he needs to think. Please, go make certain he’s safe?”

It was not as easy as that though, as James refused to leave Merlin alone, even with his own trusted guards. He ordered one to send Sir Owen and Sir Erion to check on Arthur after explaining their rooms were the closest, and then ordered another to seek out Gaius to come tend to Merlin’s reopened wound.

That is how Arthur found him upon his return: sitting on the edge of the bed, bare feet dangling, stained shirt hiked up while Gaius tried to stop the bleeding. “Merlin?” Arthur demanded, rushing the last few steps into the room. “What happened?”

Merlin saw James open his mouth and knew the knight was likely about to forget Arthur’s role as prince on the other side if his expression had anything to do with it, and cut him off with, “One of the assassins got in. He attacked, I evaded, but he got away.” He really hoped Arthur did not notice the singe marks or smell of burnt cloth that lingered in the room and, if he did, would assume it involved one of the candelabras and not a magical source.

Given Arthur’s usual responses, he expected at least a comment about his own fighting prowess, or lack thereof, and so was surprised when Arthur instead crouched at the side of the bed, fingers hovering towards the wound before settling lightly on Merlin’s knee. “I am so sorry,” he breathed.

“It’s not your fault,” Merlin shrugged, going for nonchalant but getting chided by Gaius when the movement aggravated his injury.

“I left you alone with a known threat still at large,” Arthur countered and James seemed oddly calmed by his words.

“I’m not completely inept,” Merlin huffed, not appreciating the implication. “I managed to fight him off just fine on my own, you know.”

“But you should not have had to,” Arthur whispered, his grip on Merlin’s knee tightening for a moment before releasing.

Merlin feared he was about to go off on another sulk about not getting to be the hero or some such thing that would really seem counterproductive at this point, but was saved by a knock on the door drawing everyone’s attentions. It was Morgana, and she brought a guest.

“Hello, Emrys,” Aglain greeted him. He looked serene as ever in his simple robes, forgoing the usual showiness the court sorcerers preferred. With a nod at Gaius, he offered, “Perhaps I can be of assistance with that wound?”

Gaius stepped aside gratefully. “It would be an honour to have one with your healing Gifts assist,” he replied. As a not quite quiet aside to Merlin, he explained, “His talents far outweigh even mine. You would do well to allow his help.”

Even with Gaius’ words, Aglain did not approach until he had Merlin’s blessing. He was hesitant, but nodded, not wishing to offend an obvious ally. “Please, do not feel obligated to do so,” Merlin told him. “You are a guest and already helping us, you should not have to do more simply because I could not duck properly.”

Aglain smiled, calm exuding from his very being to the point Merlin swore even the last bits of turbulent magic within him from the altercation finally settled and flowed smoothly once more. “It is not a bother to help one in need,” he insisted. He took Gaius’ place at Merlin’s side, wetting a bit of linen to dab at the blood seeping down the pale skin. His touch was warm in the coolness of the room and some of the angry burn seemed to dissipate from even just that. Aglain paused though, setting aside the linen to ask, “ _You have guilt, why?_ ”

It took Merlin a moment to realise the voice was solely in his head and not spoken aloud. Specifically for Arthur to hear as Merlin’s reasons would cause nothing but questions he was not certain he wished to answer quite yet. Concentrating to use his mind and not his lips to reply, Merlin told him, “ _I watched you die from wounds I was not able to treat, from wounds caused by my very presence. It seems unfair for you to care for me now when I could not then._ ”

Aglain’s soft chuckle echoed in response though Merlin was certain he was the only one to hear it. “ _As I am alive and well enough to make the decision to offer my services to you, I can promise you that the person you saw was not me. It may have looked like me, may even have sounded like me, but he was a different man from a different world._ ”

“ _And yet he died because of my choices,_ ” Merlin replied.

“ _And you have paid your penance and helped many others in repayment for simply trying to help your friend,_ ” Aglain told him, not unkindly. “ _Do not feel guilt, young Emrys. Simply use that lesson to guide your future actions_.”

Merlin simply nodded, not knowing what to say, mentally or otherwise, in response to that. He promised himself that he would try harder in the future, to notice not only the world around him and the effect he had on it, but the ramifications of that effect. He had wanted to make certain Morgana was safe. In his rush, he led the danger to her and others paid the cost. He shared that cost through his memories, which was all he thought he had to offer them. Perhaps if those memories served to teach though, himself and anyone who cared to listen, the cost would not be quite so steep.

Aglain smiled at him as though he could read his thoughts even when they were not directed at him, which may have actually been possible, Merlin was not sure. Apparently finding what he needed, voiced or no, he set to work on his task. Merlin felt the magic wash over him, not just brushing against his own, but drawing upon it and tying it in with that of Aglain and what felt to be the very world around him. His side burned hot, but without actual pain, and Merlin swore he saw it glow the same colour as the light in the Druid’s eyes before everything slowly faded back to normal.

When he was done, Aglain picked up the piece of damp linen and dabbed at the wound once more. Only it was not really a wound anymore. All that remained was a thin red line, very slightly puckered like a recent scar, but the swelling and hint of infection was gone completely, and the skin around the line was as pale as the rest of him.

“You will still need to rest, at least for the night,” Aglain said as he stood and wiped his hands clean. “We can visit what was found in the morning, when there is both light and a new energy to the day.”

“What was found?” James asked. He offered the other man a chair from the table, but he declined.

“It was the Suaimhneas as we thought, but not in the way we had thought,” Aglain replied. He held up his hand to forestall the questions and explained, “Our emissary spoke to his contact within that group and found that, yes, there were several who prefer to commune in that area. He also discovered they have had visitors as of late and that, though these visitors claim to be of their kind, their ways are not quite like their own.”

“Do you think they came from the other side? Or that they could be using your people for their hospitality?” Arthur asked. His eyes kept tracing Merlin’s healed wound, but he had clearly been listening and paying attention all along.

“The Suaimhneas are not known for their hospitality,” Morgana answered, reminding them of her presence. “They prefer their own company or none at all. They will help those in need, but send them on their way as soon as they are ready. They wish to commune with nature in peace and that peace usually does not involve a great deal of people.”

“There was something else,” Aglain spoke. Certain he had the others’ attention, he said, “Our emissary stated that he believed his contact was hiding something based upon his unusual behaviour and the not letting him further investigate. He scryed for a reason upon his return, but was only able to see one thing clearly. He fears the obfuscation of the rest may be deliberate.” He reached into the folds of his long robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. He unfolded it to reveal a sketched image of the portal in all its glory, and what looked to be a man passing through it.

“The only person to pass through our portal to the other side was James,” Morgana insisted. “Others returned through it, but no one else has left since Merlin brought his charge with days ago.”

“I cannot explain why he saw what he saw, I can only tell you what he claims to have seen,” Aglain told her and she instantly subsided. Merlin knew Morgana would be the last one to question what someone claimed to have seen in a vision, on this side or any other, especially after her own dreams had been called into question so much in the past.

“So you wish to question them, these Suaimhneas, further tomorrow?” Arthur guessed.

“I wish for an alternative opinion,” Aglain amended. “We are working off of solely what is known to us; our expectations shaped by the world around us. What our seer reports does not fit this world, or at least what we know of it. Now it is possible that whatever we are being prevented from seeing is causing this change, but it is also possible that the simple act of prevention is the source.”

“You want an outside view, someone who has seen both worlds, to see if they notice a difference,” Merlin guessed.

“And preferably one who is magically inclined,” Aglain admitted.

Before Merlin could even widen his eyes at the obvious implication in front of Arthur, let alone bumble for a reason why Aglain would make such a request in his presence, Morgana smoothly stepped in and covered for him with a prim, “Of course. I have seen both realms and would be happy to assist.”

Aglain offered a questioning look in return while Merlin stuttered, “And Arthur and I could go with you to see if there’s anything familiar to us that you may not have seen on our side during your brief time there.”

Within his mind, he heard Morgana warn, “ _We all have secrets, do not cost him his. The price may very well be his life._ ”

“ _Of course, my apologies,_ ” Aglain replied in the same echoing tone. “ _I had forgotten that what we take for granted here is denied on the other side. I will try my best not to make such an error again._ ” Merlin was confused enough with a single other voice in his mind, let alone two, but tried not to show anything outwardly.

“Will you be ready for travel come morning?” Arthur asked, reminding Merlin that not all could hear their inner dialogue. He gestured to Merlin’s wound, or lack thereof, and had the same inscrutable look on his face as before.

Merlin knew that, under normal circumstances, he would be able to weasel whatever was bothering Arthur out of him over the course of a day or so. He also knew that they did not have that luxury at this time. Right now, for all intents and purposes, Arthur was distracted. It likely had something to do with his mother and possibly all the changes he was discovering on this side, but there was still something more that Merlin could not put his finger on. He did not question Arthur’s prowess in an actual battle; the prince’s focus would be insurmountable. What he had to ask though, was if that focus would be too great, ignoring possibly vitally important clues, as a way of overcompensating for whatever else was on his mind.

He also knew that Arthur was waiting for an answer. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. At Arthur’s doubting eyebrow, he huffed, “Bit tired, bit sore, but nothing a good meal and a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

Arthur, of course, overcompensated for that as well, going so far as to suggest they forgo the planned dinner with the king and queen and dine in their chambers to allow Merlin more of a chance to rest. Morgana, bless her heart, saw right through that and managed to cut Arthur off before his mother hen routine got out of hand. They and Aglain would dine with her in her chambers while the maids and guards were given a chance to set Merlin’s room to rights. Far less stress than dining with the monarchy, who she insisted would understand, yet still more productive than hiding away when there were still details to be worked out about the following day’s schedule.

Dinner was, of course, divine, and also had the added benefit of neither Morgana nor Aglain attempting to hold multiple conversations with Merlin, both verbally and not. Well, mostly anyway. Once Aglain needed clarification as to a not so subtle comment about Merlin being seen only as a servant on the other side, and once Morgana politely advised Merlin that he had spilled soup on his tunic. Given that it was the same tunic from earlier that was already stained with his blood as he was not given a chance to change prior to his meal, Merlin was not overly concerned.

“You are quiet, Arthur Pendragon,” Aglain commented as the dishes from the main course were cleared and goblets of mulled wine and platters of sweets took their place. “Are you contemplating a strategy for tomorrow?”

Arthur shook his head and quirked his lips in a shallow shadow of a smile. “Contemplating, but not about strategy,” he admitted. He leaned back in his chair and held his goblet in his hands, turning it to and fro and watching the dark liquid stain the inside, but had yet to actually drink any. “The strategy will present itself when the facts of the situation allow.”

Merlin understood what he meant, and was fairly certain the others did as well. They were to investigate and observe tomorrow, something that was difficult to plan for. You hoped for the best and expected the worst and kept your weapons at the ready, be they sword or the magic within you. Given that there were known assassins that they had the potential to be dealing with, he was rather hoping for more than one sword, but the situation would be as the situation would be, and they would handle things as they were presented. In the meantime, he relished the fact he was being allowed the wine, something Arthur had frowned at, but did not dare refuse him after the day’s events.

“Then what troubles you?” Aglain asked. It was the question Merlin himself wanted the answers to, but did not have the courage to actually come out and ask. A glance to Morgana showed even she dared not delve into his mind without his permission, though it was entirely possible she could not. There were some people naturally immune to her Gifts, but he had a feeling that, immunity or no, she would still refrain. Arthur deserved his private moments. When those private moments interfered with the task at hand, directly or no, then it would be time to intervene.

Merlin did not really expect Arthur to say anything. Maybe he would sip his wine and stall, or maybe he would come up with something small and insignificant in an attempt to appease just enough for everyone to back off. He was quite surprised when Arthur said simply, “The differences.”

“Between the realms?” Morgana guessed.

Arthur set his goblet down and nodded. He pursed his lips together for a moment before he blurted, “There are so many and they are so obvious and yet everything is so very similar to home.” A wave to Merlin and he explained, “I know Merlin as my simple-minded and oddly loyal servant, and yet here he is treated with the rights and respects of an ambassador or nobleman. Things that I have been taught to take for granted, like the inherent evil of all magic, are either inconsequential or downright disproved here.”

“Magic is not evil,” Morgana insisted. She had picked up a sweet, but set it aside as she explained, “It is simply what you use it for. Think of a blade: it can either save a life or take one. The person who holds that blade makes that choice; they decide upon the act and, with it, the consequences.”

“I know that,” Arthur sighed. At the multiple raised eyebrows he received, he amended that to, “Or at the very least I am learning that. But you must understand that how I was raised varies so drastically from everything I am seeing here. Sorcerers were to be hunted and killed, assumed evil even if they had never raised a finger against the king. Here, I watched a man use magic to heal, baubles that my father would have burned worn freely and, inexplicably, protect instead of harm.” He turned to Aglain and admitted, “I saw your body, run through with a bolt from one of my men’s crossbows because you had kidnapped Morgana, and yet now I dine with you as an equal.”

“But I am alive,” Aglain said, trying to use the same logic he had used on Merlin on Arthur.

Merlin suspected it was not going to work, at least not well, and took a hearty swallow of his wine before he admitted something he thought he would take to his grave. “Aglain and the Druids did not kidnap Morgana. She went to them in hopes of learning how to use the Gift she was given. She returned in an effort to save not only the lives of the Druids that took her in, but the lives of every single person from Camelot itself that your father was rounding up to have slaughtered.” He said it as fast as he could to be over with it, but also tried his very best to say it as calm as he could so as to not to raise hackles or make the situation worse than it already was.

Arthur closed his eyes and Merlin knew it pained him to be told this, to know his surrogate sister willingly left for the enemy, only to return to serve them as well. He also knew it pained Arthur that Merlin had known this all along and yet kept it hidden from him. He only hoped that Arthur understood why and that, perhaps, one day he would be willing to accept it.

“My father ordered those people to be captured so that magic would not take Morgana the way it took my mother,” he whispered. His eyes clenched tighter for a moment before he opened them and allowed Merlin to see the anguish within. “Maybe it’s different here. Maybe magic is inherently evil at home just as my father claims it to be. Maybe here it is used more as a force of good to counteract that evil, a sense of balance in the grand scheme of things. But I cannot believe that something that stole my mother from... that cost her...”

Arthur trailed off, the words lost in his surge of emotion, and Aglain took the opportunity to speak. “It comes down to knowledge,” he offered. “The knowledge of the price of magic, and of the consequences of its actions. I do not believe your mother would have left you behind after struggling to bring you into this world if given the choice. She was not given the knowledge she needed; she was not advised of the consequences of her actions.”

“Queen Ygraine was offered a similar choice,” Morgana told them, and Merlin’s ears perked up, never having heard such a thing before. “She was offered the chance to birth a child of her own, a true heir of the ruling king and queen of Camelot.” Morgana shook her head sorrowfully, the woman had become so much like her own mother in so many ways. “She knew the price of magic though, a cost for a cost, and she feared that cost would be far too high for her to pay. She and Uther deliberated over it for quite some time until finally Uther decided he could not take the risk that the cost would be his queen, his love. They invited my father to this castle as he was a dear friend of Uther’s and my mother had already passed. Ygraine had practically adopted me prior to my own father’s death. They made the best out of an awful situation and this was the result. I am sorry that dear Ygraine never held her own child in her hands, but I am grateful for all the times she had the chance to hold me.”

“Without your mother’s death, your father never grew to hate magic, never blamed it for her lost,” Merlin whispered, fitting the pieces together. “There was no Great Purge, no raids of the Druid camps or mass executions.”

“No insistence upon the evils of magic brought about by his own grief,” Morgana added.

“No fighting back against him and his men, no grudges or curses like some self-fulfilling prophecy, proving to him that he was right because they challenged him now,” Merlin explained, knowing his words could be seen as treason, and he too could be executed, only this time the risk was not simply for being who he was born to be.

“No me,” Arthur finished for them.

Morgana shook her head, dark curls sliding across her silk-clad shoulders. “You are not to blame for your father’s corruption,” she insisted. “Whoever did not tell your parents the true cost of their desire is at fault.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I have it good authority that person has paid the price quite severely for her actions,” Merlin offered.

Almost instantly he heard joint demands for the name of the witch that would do such a thing blare within his mind. He had barely thought the name when he heard Aglain’s disbelieving, “ _Nimeuh? The Fallen Priestess? That she could do such a thing is not inconceivable, but gives credence to her fall._ ”

“ _A sorceress that powerful – how can you be certain she will not return?_ ” Morgana demanded. She took a sip of her wine, actions far too jerky to be graceful and refined, but it served to cover her clearly doubting expression. It was still disconcerting to see her drink while it sounded like she was carrying on a conversation though, and Merlin did not think he would ever fully get used to that.

“ _Because she really did not look like she was coming back after I hit her with that lightning bolt?_ ” he tried. He bit his lip in both an effort not to speak aloud, and in preparation for the backlash.

The expressions turned from doubting to near shock. “ _We will be discussing this at a later time,_ ” Morgana stated, eyes narrowed, and Merlin was fairly certain Aglain wished to be witness to that conversation.

It was a good thing that Arthur was so distracted with his own thoughts that he did not see the emotions playing about the faces of the others. It would have been obvious that they were carrying on a conversation without him, and that would have led to far more questions than Merlin’s tired mind could handle that night. “ _Not tonight though?_ ” he asked hopefully. His body sagged in his chair and, true to Aglain’s earlier prediction, he longed for sleep, feeling exhausted despite the lack of a full day’s worth of chores. He was fairly certain the source was more than the few sips of wine he had been allowed, though he was just as certain that those sips probably did not help.

“ _Later,_ ” Morgana agreed and he knew it was more than a promise. She set down her goblet and nodded daintily in Merlin’s direction, drawing Arthur’s attention first to her and then to his friend. “You appear quite spent from today’s events; perhaps it is time to call this meal to an end to allow you to rest?”

Merlin looked up at her gratefully, even though he swore he could feel Arthur’s protective instincts hone in on him once more. “How are you feeling?” the prince asked, suddenly closer, fingertips brushing Merlin’s arm before the back of his hand graced his forehead. “You do not feel feverish, though you look like a ghoul with those shadows under your eyes.”

“I feel like a ghoul,” Merlin admitted. He pushed himself to his unsteady feet and bowed slightly towards both Morgana and Aglain, surprised when the action involved only minor discomfort. “With your leave?”

Arthur had stood as well and was at Merlin’s elbow before either were formally dismissed. Times were set to gather the next day, and Morgana offered Arthur more than training gear should he so desire. He demurred, but did not outright refuse, and Merlin was left to question how much was his desire for protection, and how much was his fear that the gear could be used to control him given his underlying fear of magic and his apparent belief that every single thing in this kingdom was tainted with that power. It was not true, not really, though he had to admit magic’s reach in this world far surpassed even his own wishes for his own world, and he wondered just how much further it would go if given the chance.

When they finally made it back to Merlin’s newly scrubbed room, Arthur insisted on helping Merlin remove his ruined tunic and replace it with a fine nightshirt, despite the protest that he was perfectly capable of completing such a task himself. When both had prepared for sleep, Merlin lay on his back, gazing up at the velvet canopy and wondering what the next day might hold for them. Arthur took up his previous position at his side, only this time the hand did not rest atop Merlin’s wrist, but rather reached across, fingertips almost brushing Merlin’s hip. A glance showed that Arthur’s palm was centred above the nearly healed wound, the heat from the touch both warm and reassuring at the same time.

Even though he knew Arthur was still awake from the stiff set of his shoulders, no doubt waiting for Merlin to say something about his unusual behaviour, Merlin stayed quiet and purposefully shut his eyes. Arthur was both offering and accepting comfort in his own way and, quite frankly, after a day full of magic and assassins, Merlin did not have it in him to turn down the offer. Instead, he drifted off to sleep with images of gold and red and blood and steel flitting through his mind. He felt a warmth at his side, and another centred above his heart, and he rather hoped it was more than the latest talisman at work.

He awoke the next morning surprised to find Arthur in nearly the same place he had been in the night before. The hand had curved slightly, almost the hint of an embrace, but the whole sensation remained protective and, as odd as it sounded within his own mind, it made him feel safer knowing both that Arthur was there and that he was behaving in such a manner.

He lay there for a while, simply enjoying the moment. He was surrounded by comfort, his body held barely the faintest twinge of soreness, and he felt cared for in every sense of the word. Eventually he needed to move though, and so he rolled slightly to the side, expecting Arthur to either feign sleep or to quickly remove his hand with some weak excuse. Instead, he found Arthur wide awake, blue eyes boring into him, watching his every shift and adjustment.

Not knowing what else to do, Merlin cleared his throat and offered a slightly weak, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Arthur said in reply. He shifted his grip ever so slightly, the palm of his hand lightly sliding over what would have been Merlin’s wound. “How are you feeling?” he asked, eyes flitting down to Merlin’s side and then back up to meet his gaze.

“Much better,” Merlin replied, and it was the truth. He had no idea why he nearly stuttered saying two simple words, however.

Arthur nodded, hair catching on the pillow and releasing to stand at the oddest of angles. “Good,” was all he said.

Merlin had no idea if he intended to say more, or they were to fall into an awkward silence that would make them both uncomfortable, but a knock on the door dissolved the moment and returned them to the present and its no doubt pressing matters.

Arthur removed his hand, but looked reluctant to do so, and Merlin called for whoever it was to enter, figuring if they made it past the guards and actually knocked they were likely not an assassin out for their blood. James entered and did not even raise an eyebrow at the fact neither man had made it out of bed yet that morning. He did cast a glance at the dagger Arthur had somehow obtained, but let it pass when Arthur sheepishly set it aside.

The men got ready for the day and shared a light breakfast before they were escorted to the armoury upon Morgana’s orders. Merlin was, at the very least, to be awarded a shirt of chain mail, and Arthur was to be allowed to choose something more than the light armour of his practice gear should he so desire.

Arthur protested it was not necessary, right up until he saw what was on offer. The metal was finely wrought with delicate designs etched into the goget and pauldron. Merlin watched as his gloved fingertip traced the fine lines, brows furrowed as if trying to place something familiar. “These patterns...” he said, but trailed off, unsure of how to phrase what he was going to say.

“Our smith is the best in the land,” Morgana boasted proudly. She was not yet fully dressed in her own armour, but had her hair piled atop her head in a series of braids and knots to keep it out of the way on their journey and was dressed in preparation for the layers she would be adding.

“I will send your regards to my father,” a new voice joined in.

Time seemed to stop as both Merlin and Arthur turned as one towards the voice, Merlin with a wide grin and Arthur with a look of disbelief. “Gwen!” Merlin wrapped his arms around her in greeting. He pulled back slightly to take in her travelling ensemble and asked hopefully, “You will be joining us?”

“Of course,” Morgana replied for her. “You know by now that she goes wherever I go, or near enough anyway.” Merlin had not forgotten, not really, it was just that Gwen did not usually bother with the day to day politics of the castle, preferring to keep herself busy in other ways that usually involved at least some time at her father’s forge. He had yet to see her this trip, however, and so he was unsure if she was busy with other duties or simply otherwise detained.

“Guinevere?” Arthur asked, voice no more than a whisper.

“Only my brother calls me that,” Gwen scoffed good-naturedly. She stepped up beside Arthur and nodded her approval at his interest. “It’s a fine piece and should fit you well.”

Arthur kept staring at her though, no longer interested in the armour, seeming crushed when she showed no signs of recognition. Merlin cleared his throat slightly and explained to Morgana and James, “Gwen is Morgana’s maid in our realm, I think I told you that before. Arthur and Morgana were raised near brother and sister, so he knows her well on our side.”

Morgana nodded in understanding. “Gwen began as my maid here as well, but has grown to so much more,” she told Arthur. “Her father could deny her nothing as Uther so rarely denies me. When I insisted on learning the sword, she learned as well. Her father pieced together armour for her, and for me, and soon she became more of a bodyguard outside these castle walls. I would be lost without her, truly, and was beside myself wishing to speak to the Gwen in your realm during my visit.”

Gwen smiled politely and curtsied slightly, or at least as much as she could given that she was wearing trousers and not a skirt. She wore a heavy leather vest over a simple tunic very similar to what Morgana herself was currently wearing. Merlin knew from experience that a light hauberk would be added, as well as a belt for at least a sword if not more. He also knew that she would choose what she thought best for him to wear and that he would dare not question that judgment.

She looked at him critically now, head cocked slightly to the side and a few stray curls escaping her no-nonsense bun. “That one,” she decided, pointing to a piece off to the side. “I can help with the buckles if you need. I trust you are just as abysmal with a sword as you were before?” she teased lightly.

“I’ve gotten much better!” Merlin insisted. “Arthur insists on his version of training and I even got in a hit deep enough to leave a mark just last week.”

“That’s because I tripped over a root trying to make sure you did not disembowel yourself with your sword,” Arthur rolled his eyes, earning a chuckle from more than one person present.

Merlin scowled, knowing he had been getting better, regardless of what Arthur liked to tell people, but did not press the issue as whatever odd emotion or doubt Arthur had been feeling seemed to be gone and he was learning to celebrate the small victories at this point.

Gwen walked up to Arthur next and took in his training ensemble with a sniff. “Good enough for a practice field, but I am not letting you out of this castle with a sword like that.” She motioned to the beat up thing at Arthur’s side that barely held an edge any more. It worked well for banging around to teach offensive and defensive moves, but it would hardly be the best thing in a fight unless sheer brunt force was on his side.

“Really?” Arthur asked, clearly amused.

“Really,” she agreed with a twitch of her lips. She pulled a blade from the stand near the door, tested its weight, and offered it to him crosswise. “Try this instead.”

To say it was a fine blade would be an understatement, and both Arthur and Merlin knew it. Arthur swung it in a wide arc to check its balance, then held it close to examine the bevel. “It will do,” he said, clearly impressed.

The twitch became a smirk and she offered another curtsey before moving back over to Merlin. She handed him one that was slightly smaller and easier to handle and said with false seriousness, “Do try not to stab yourself, okay?”

“I will try my best,” Merlin agreed, setting the blade off to the side to shrug into the hauberk first instead.

The others took that as their sign and readied themselves as well. Gwen pulled the buckles tighter on Merlin’s gear, but acquiesced to his insistence upon seeing to Arthur’s himself. He did so from long practice, knowing to keep that catch a little looser, and that buckle a little tighter, and soon enough everyone had everything in place, though Morgana pulled his talisman free to sit above the links of chains and offered only a, “Trust me,” in explanation.

Gwen was settling both a dirk and a sword about her belt when another visitor graced them with his presence. Already in armour, but features unmistakable, Lancelot took Merlin’s offered hand only to pull him into an embrace in greeting. “It has been too long, friend,” he smiled as he released him.

“Much like you in readying yourself this morning,” Gwen teased. “What caused the delay?”

“Your father,” he replied good-naturedly. He pulled her close and placed a kiss atop her curls. “He was not satisfied with the repairs to my pauldron and wanted to make further adjustments. I distracted him by reminding him Elyan was to watch Galahad during our absence and he rushed to check on your brother and his grandson.”

Merlin laughed as he knew Elyan loved his nephew, but was not always the most trustworthy when caring for him. The toddler was usually returned filthy, but unharmed, with fingers and lips stained with sweets.

He turned to see Arthur taking in the scene with wide eyes. He was not certain if it was due to the open displays of affection, or the fact Lancelot wore the colours of Camelot and clearly served its crown. “Lancelot is a knight here, much like he tried to be in our realm. He and Gwen were married not long after the gryphon incident.”

“But he is not a nobleman,” Arthur spluttered, though Merlin knew that was probably the least of Arthur’s concerns.

Morgana snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “That hardly matters when you save the king and queen, not to mention their ward,” she explained. “He is a loyal and determined fighter, and a fine addition to our knights.”

“I did not mean any disrespect,” Arthur insisted, regaining some of his usual decorum. “The Lancelot in our realm saved my life as well, though my father banished him for pretending to be something he was not.” He shook his head. “Much like Merlin has said, repeatedly mind you, there are so many similarities here, yet so many differences as well. It is difficult to wrap one’s mind around at times, though I shall endeavour to do my best.” He offered Lancelot a bow in apology and Lancelot offered his hand in return.

“There are no hard feelings, believe me, sire,” he said, offering his own bow. “I was surprised as many that King Uther honoured my request. I can only hope that I continue to serve him and the crown of Camelot to the best of my abilities.”

Merlin tried to hide a grin at Arthur’s instinctive reaction to being called “sire” and the fact it was possibly the first time he had been done so during his visit. The straightened shoulders, the slight tilt of the head, all ingrained in him from an early age, to be certain. He wanted to give Lancelot a thumbs up for a moment well-played, but knew the knight did not mean it as such, and it was just his own inborn sense of decorum that was expressing itself, likely without conscious thought.

With everyone situated and properly armed, they left for the stables where horses were readied and mounted in quick fashion. Aside from James and Lancelot, two other knights Merlin vaguely recognised were assigned to their troupe named Arain and Efraran, and Aglain awaited them there as well, forgoing any armament as was his way. Uther and Ygraine saw them off, and Merlin caught the slight flicker of sorrow in Arthur’s eyes when he saw the woman he would have called mother tuck something sweet into Morgana’s saddlebag, and the man he called father pat her horse on the flank the way he so often did Arthur’s when he left for any sort of patrol or battle.

The journey was relatively quiet, and the scenery very familiar. Merlin swore he felt it when they passed through the wards placed around the town and outlying fields and, by Morgana’s answering smirk, he was fairly certain who placed them there. It was odd though, to pass by the meadow where Gaius tended to cultivate various herbs and find a smattering of homes there instead, or to cross the creek on a bridge made of stone instead of wood.

His mind kept wondering what other little changes lurked behind the bushes and the brambles and, if Arthur’s expression was anything to go by, he was not the only one pursuing that line of thought. Arthur offered him a wry turn of his lips that told Merlin that he had been both caught contemplating Arthur’s reaction and that he was likely on the correct track for that contemplation.

Aglain called for a halt at the edge of a thicket and the party dismounted, leaving one of the knights to both watch the horses and play sentry. He led the way through the brush and they walked a fair distance before they came upon a small clearing. To the side was small hut, possibly smaller than Merlin’s own room back at the castle, runes and herbs adorning the lintel of the simple wooden door.

Aglain paused outside that door, head tilted to the side in consternation. “This is the home of Eloran,” he explained. “But his wards are inactive and he is not responding to any requests.”

Merlin waved off Arthur’s mouthed question of how Aglain could request when he had not made a sound, and whispered back, “Not all speech is spoken.”

“Oh, that’s incredibly helpful,” Arthur huffed. He spun in a circle to fully take in their surroundings and must have spotted something as he headed off to the side to investigate.

Merlin was torn between following him and checking with Aglain, who had now opened the door to the hut to peer inside. The room was empty, everything neat and tidy and in its place, but Merlin did not dwell on that for long as Arthur now had his sword drawn and was pulling back some foliage to examine something on the forest floor.

“They are peaceful people,” Morgana chided. “Greeting them with weapons drawn will not get us very far.”

Merlin was going to point out that this was in direct contrast to the fact she insisted they were all well-armed on this little outing, not to mention hunting possible assassins, but found it unnecessary as Arthur lowered his sword and agreed, “No, it will not get us very far at all.”

Merlin recognised that tone and was at his side in a moment. Through the leaves and the branches he saw exactly what Arthur meant. There was a body crumpled on the ground, green cloak askew, and dark blood staining the earth beneath it.

“Eloran, I presume?” Arthur asked as Aglain approached.

Aglain crouched beside the body and offered a small prayer, cupping the pale cheek before closing the lifeless eyes. “Yes,” he confirmed, voice tinged with sorrow. He rose but did not look away from his fallen friend as he said, “He was a good man. There would have been no reason for such violence.”

“Unless someone was afraid he was going to reveal something they wanted to keep hidden,” Arthur guessed.

Aglain nodded, but something still seemed off in Merlin’s mind. He touched the green woollen cloak and examined the silver embroidery. “Is this standard amongst the Suaimhneas?” he asked.

“The runes vary but, yes, the colours and style are correct,” Aglain confirmed.

Merlin looked about him and knew more than one person wanted to know what he was going on about this time. “It’s the wrong hue,” he explained. “The assassins wore a very similar style, but the green was different and they used gold instead of silver along the hem.”

“A difference between the realms,” Morgana supposed.

“Which would support the idea that whoever it is came from your world to seek refuge in ours,” James added. “But why kill the one offering you refuge?”

While they mused on that bit of information, Lancelot called from further up a rough path, “I believe I have found something!”

Merlin followed the others and trudge along the barely formed trail to where the knight waited. “What is it?” James asked, already peering at the area around them.

“This path leads to a small clearing where is something there you need to see. There are several footprints, some that simply stop and others that seem to begin from nowhere,” Lancelot explained.

Merlin shared a look with Arthur and then with Morgana at the implication of the words. The three of them pushed forward and reached the edge of the area before the others. Gwen arrived soon enough, however, and pulled Morgana between herself and James for safety’s sake, much to the Lady’s frustration.

“It’s another portal,” Morgana announced, reminding Merlin that not everyone could see the things.

He stepped forward, only Arthur’s hand resting lightly on his shoulder keeping him back, and took in the sight. Part of him was not surprised that another portal could exist. It would explain the strange disturbances, the ability of the assassins to travel between the realms without the need to trespass Morgana’s castle, and how the Suaimhneas of this realm came upon the travellers.

What he was surprised at was its size. It was so very small, barely a fourth the size of the portal in Gaius’ room, and that was when it was at its smallest. It also did not glow red as he had expected, but the same gold as the one he knew so well, though perhaps a little dimmer, a little less vibrant in some way than the one back home.

There was a noise at the far side of the clearing, and Arthur pulled Merlin back and ducked him down low as to not be seen. Gwen and James were doing the same for Morgana, and Lancelot, Arain, and Aglain tucked themselves along the treeline but safely out of view.

Merlin peered through the bush the best he could to see two men approach, green cloaks trimmed in gold. “Thomas should be back by now,” one complained. He shifted two stones that had blended in with the detritus and the portal flared brighter, nearly large enough now for a person to walk through.

“We must realise that he could have been captured, or worse,” the second man pointed out. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said, “Do not fail as he has; twice he has travelled with unacceptable results. Find the Pendragon son and make him pay as his father has made us pay with our children’s lives.”

The first man nodded and took both a vial and a dagger from the second and hid them in the folds of his cloak. The two chanted in a guttural language and the portal changed from gold to red, shimmering bright against the green of the forest.

“I will not let our brothers down,” the first man promised.

“I should hope not,” the second one replied, no hint of humour to his tone. “They stand waiting for word of your success; the attack hinges on Uther’s distraction and grief over the loss of his son.”

There were not further words of goodbye, only the first man nodding in understanding and stepping through to the other side. The second waited a moment as the portal returned to gold, the colour reflected in his own eyes. He shifted the stones back into place and glanced around almost nervously. Apparently satisfied that nothing was out of sorts, he disappeared back into the shadows of the woods on the other side of the clearing.

For long moments, they waited. When it appeared he would not return, Arthur led the way back into the clearing while Morgana whispered orders to those with little to no magical ability to stay away from the stones lest they wish for an unscheduled journey to someplace they probably did not want to be. Aglain whispered words of his own and the portal glowed slightly brighter for a moment, at least in Merlin’s eyes, after which Lancelot physically jumped back at its presence, leading Merlin to believe it was now visible for everyone present.

He, Aglain, and Morgana immediately began to discuss the possibility of a second portal on the other side as well, no doubt matching the location of this one. They also tried to reason the meaning behind the change in colours, but could only guess that it was a way to travel to a different portal than the one their own would naturally go to. In this case, Merlin was willing to bet one of his precious few coins that the second man ended up in Gaius’ workroom just now, just as the he was willing to bet the first man had ended up in this clearing when he and Arthur made the journey to this side. When to portal returned to its golden hue, it had returned to its natural position, which is why they ended up back in the castle when they stepped through.

Morgana wondered if it had anything to do with the assassins’ apparent love for transportation spells, and Aglain tried to remember anything that would make such a thing possible, but needed more research to be certain. Merlin, however, was distracted by the way the portal’s glow grew once more, brilliant gold though there was no one on this side controlling it.

“Uh, Arthur?” he swallowed.

Even though Arthur was on the other side of the clearing, he was first to Merlin’s side. He tugged on Merlin’s collar and ordered, “Get out of there!” while dragging him towards where Lancelot and James already had their swords out and were advancing.

Gwen pulled Morgana to the side, and nearly knocked Aglain over in her rush before she righted him and pushed them both back towards the path that led to the hut. It was too late though, as the portal surged, its borders expanded now to a circle of stones Merlin only noticed by their glow. Three men stepped through, one in the robes of the Suaimhneas, and two in the armour of an enemy Arthur knew too well.

“Cenred,” Arthur breathed. Though the king in question was not present, the two men were definitely part of his guard, and they turned at the sound and noticed the others gathered in the clearing.

The next bit was a blur to Merlin. Swords clashed and Gwen defended Morgana until she was back on her feet and could fight on her own, Arthur and James took on the second guard while Lancelot and Arain tried to stop the man in the Suaimhneas cloak from getting away. There was the smoke of a transportation spell and then there was a flash of a blade far too close to Merlin for comfort. His talisman burned brightly and the edge missed its mark, sliding harmlessly along the links of his sleeve instead. He knew better than to rely on a tiny bit of stone and herbs though, and brought his own sword up in defence.

It was unnecessary though, as Arthur shouldered the man away from him and towards where Lancelot awaited. James had moved to help Gwen and Morgana and though they would have preferred to keep both men alive for questioning, Lancelot’s man made a strike too close and received a blade in his gut in return, and Morgana’s man had his throat slit by Morgana herself when he backed Gwen against a tree and ignored the threat of the noblewoman behind him.

Morgana stepped over him and knelt at the side of the man next to Merlin instead. “Why?” she demanded, though she only received a gurgled breath in reply. She closed her eyes and placed her hand atop the man’s heaving chest and asked the question once more. A tilt of her head to the side and she nodded, the man’s final gasp ignored as she stood.

“My Lady, what did you discover?” James asked. He wiped his blade on the edge of his tunic and sheathed it as he awaited her response.

“Cenred,” she growled. She turned to Arthur and her eyes flash with anger, though not with magic. “The Cenred from your realm is working with the Suaimhneas from your realm. They are to assault your ranks and preferably kill you, to weaken Camelot’s defences prior to Cenred’s attempt to attack the castle. He has promised them that magic shall be free and that they will have retribution for the deaths of their brothers at your father’s hands.”

Arthur snorted in disgust. “Cenred has never held true to a single promise made,” he reasoned. “Should they do his bidding, he will reward them only with death as they would potentially pose a challenge to him as well.”

“But the Suaimhneas do not know that,” James guessed. “They may suspect, but they would trust in the word of someone claiming to support them versus a man who has killed their own kind. If he is one of the few whose thoughts are protected, they would easily follow his promises until proven otherwise.”

Aglain joined them now, whispering words of passing over the bodies before he offered, “If the Suaimhneas of your realm requested sanctuary from the Suaimhneas from this realm, it would have been granted. They are brothers of a sort, though they have suffered separately and have different goals. If they claimed solely to want a safe place free from your realm’s persecution, Eloran would have offered them refuge.”

“A refuge they abused,” Merlin guessed.

“They used this land as a base of operations and, when your friend discovered their deceit, they removed him from the equation,” Arthur reasoned.

“It does seem likely,” Aglain agreed. Merlin could not tell if he was saddened by the loss of his friend, or pleased that he had been vindicated of any darker association with the attacks. Perhaps a bit of both really, though Merlin knew no one present would blame him for either.

“So what do we do now?” Merlin asked. “We know their plan, but how do we stop it?”

“I believe we have greater things to worry about,” Lancelot cut in. He looked behind him more than once, but Merlin could find nothing but trees and more trees from his current position.

“Greater than a planned threat to a kingdom by a man who knows how to cross realms and is fairly likely to set his sights on this one when he’s done with ours?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

Lancelot did not even blink at his tone, but instead replied, “Given that one of your assassins got away and is likely seeking reinforcements to stop us from warning either side? Yes, I believe so.”

Arthur conceded the point, but also added, “If he used that spell of his he could be anywhere, how are we to find him?”

“The thread of magic remains. There is the possibility we can use this thread to discover where he reappeared,” Aglain told him in his usual enigmatic way.

“Or there’s the fact that they have only used it for short distances thus far and are likely close by,” Morgana added far more practically.

“Did you see anything when you read that man’s mind?” Merlin asked hopefully.

She shook her head, a strand of near black working its way free from her elaborate knots as it caught on her armour. “No, though we could always just follow the path,” she shrugged.

Merlin watched as Arthur winced at the obviousness of it all. The contingent from Camelot followed a path here. The Suaimhneas followed a path here, and the guard were probably going to return along that same path. Throw in a trained tracker or two, which would easily be assumed to exist within their group, and they should be able to find wherever the rest of the Suaimhneas made their home. Then again, they should also be walking into a trap, so there was that, but he knew enough about the people gathered to know they would take their chances.

“Go to Efraran and tell him to request reinforcements,” Morgana ordered Arain. The knight nodded and darted back to where the other man waited with the horses. Now they may still be walking into a trap, but at least there was the chance of eventual reinforcements. Not an ideal situation, but better than they had previously and likely as good as they were going to get.

Aglain insisted upon doing something to the stones around the portal. To Merlin, it appeared he was simply destroying the outer circle, moving the pieces inwards towards where the Suaimhneas had cast their spell. The portal seemed to condense further under his ministrations, however, so whatever he was doing was having an obvious effect. At Merlin’s questioning gaze, Aglain explained, “This portal is far weaker than the one in the castle. A great deal of magic is used to keep it active enough to allow the men to traverse it. If we disrupt that magic, we disrupt that travel.”

“And hopefully prevent Cenred from sending through more guards while we’re dealing with the ones already here,” he guessed. He took Aglain’s tilt of his head to mean he was correct, but had to ask, “Is there no way to just close it and be done with it?”

Aglain shook his head. “I can no more close this one than I can the one in the castle,” he said apologetically. “We can constrain it to its smallest size, and remove the source of the magic that makes it larger, but no more.”

“And removing the source involves removing whatever the Suaimhneas are doing,” Arthur speculated, earning his own tilt in response.

“Then we need to find them before they are given a chance to renew their spells,” Morgana pointed out. Merlin understood the extra meaning in her words, which was that dallying about was not going to help them or forestall the inevitable, so they might as well approach it head on.

The remaining group moved towards where she had indicated, but Merlin stopped Lancelot as he walked by. “You’re bleeding,” he announced.

“It’s but a scratch,” Lancelot protested.

“We have men using poisons that kill with the slightest touch,” James pointed out. “Any and all wounds are to be treated immediately.”

Lancelot acquiesced enough to let Merlin and Aglain look at his wound. It was a thin line along his forearm where his gauntlet ended, barely breaking the skin and not quite the length of his little finger. Merlin let out a breath he did not realise he had been holding when he saw the wound was free from green and black. He looked over to the anxiously waiting Gwen and nodded in reassurance to see some of the tension leave her shoulders at the news.

Lancelot did not wish to weaken Aglain by using his healing Gifts for such a small scratch, not when there would be potential need for far heavier magics in the near future, so they settled for wrapping it in a clean strip of cloth to prevent the risk of infection until they could deal with it more suitably later.

Finally, with the knowledge that the Suaimhneas now had a great deal of a head start, they moved towards the tiny path. James led the way, Arthur at his side as they tracked the footprints through the dirt and leaves. Lancelot fell back to the rear of the group to serve as defence from anything lurking behind them and if he happened to take a little longer than usual at his wife’s side or she offered him more than a squeeze of a hand in support, no one mentioned it at all.

The path wound through the woods for quite a ways and dipped down near a trickle of a creek before it arched back up towards what looked to be several caves. The traffic here was much more evident, even if the abandoned pot near one of the entrances was not a clear give away.

“We go into those caves and they have the clear advantage,” James warned, stopping the party just where the trees thinned. “They will know the layout and every nook and cranny to hide in, not to mention the dangers of fighting in such closed quarters.”

Arthur and Morgana shared looks of agreement at the counsel, but it turned out that such a warning was entirely unnecessary. About a half-dozen men streamed from the caves, some of which still wore the cloaks of the Suaimhneas, and some simple tunics and leggings. There was no clear military leader from what Merlin could make out, which would explain why they were foolish enough to give up such an obvious advantage.

“ _Unless, of course, they are hiding something within,_ ” Aglain’s voice rang in his mind. Merlin inwardly winced knowing that such a thing was not only possible, but probably likely as well.

The Suaimhneas men formed a rough circle around the cave, all clearly armed and some with more than one weapon. Their blades gleamed as though recently cleaned though, with no trace of the poison in sight. That was, of course, until one of the men took out his dirk and the edges were clearly dripping with the liquid.

“Don’t let that blade near you,” Merlin warned.

“Always sound advice in any battle,” Arthur smirked as he stepped forward. They were fairly evenly matched, especially when accounting for the fact that there was little chance of Aglain raising a weapon to any living being. Merlin knew he would defend the others with magic if need be, but he would never go on the offensive.

“The Pendragons have come to us,” the man with the dirk announced to the others gathered. “They have made our task far easier than we could have hoped.”

Merlin caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Another man slowly tucked his hand deep within the folds of his cloak, only to reveal a dagger also tainted green. In a breath, that dagger sailed through the air towards Arthur. Merlin felt the magic alight in his veins and barely even had to think before the blade was deflected and embedded itself deep in the trunk of a nearby tree. He could feel more than see the second blade coming at him, but only had a rough idea of what direction, so he ignored the urge to seek it out magically and settled for knocking Arthur to the ground instead, the knife sailing harmlessly over his head to rest near the edge of the clearing.

“Perhaps not so easy,” Morgana told the man, her eyes now burning a molten gold. The blade rose and soared back in the direction of the cave and a man that Merlin could only assume was its owner fell to the ground gasping as the black spirals began to take over.

Most of the men took that as a signal to attack and once more Merlin’s ears rang with the sound of steel upon steel. Arthur had righted himself and was charging at one man while James and Lancelot each had one of their own. Gwen and Morgana stayed a little further back, warily sizing up their opponents, while Merlin watched the man who was remotely in charge of the whole thing slink back towards the caves, a feeling of unease growing in the pit of his stomach.

A man made a slice at him but, with Gwen’s help, he was able to push him back. Another blade flew through the air, this one clearly earmarked for him, but he was able to deflect that one as well. Or at least he thought it was him; Aglain and Morgana each had their hands raised and the feeling of magic and power that surrounded him was beginning to make things a little more than a little confusing. He just hoped Arthur had not seen anything or, if he did, that he assumed it was the other sorcerers and not him who had managed the feat.

“ _I will keep your secret for as long as I can, but it may be difficult under the circumstances,_ ” Morgana hissed, words sounding both in his head and outwardly as she blocked another charge.

Merlin knew that, if they could just get room to breathe, the three of them – he, Aglain, and Morgana – would be able to take care of all of the attackers at once, a single burst to knock them down and hopefully out and, more importantly, to stop any further attack before the Suaimhneas men remembered just where their poison stash was and decided just to toss that about as well.

It was not to be, however, as the man with the dirk returned, an unfortunately familiar face at his side. The man from the castle, Merlin’s castle not Morgana’s, the one with the scar on his face and the bracelet on his wrist stood at his side. Merlin wanted to question why they hung back and did not join in the fray, but the answer became apparent soon enough as even the men actively fighting began to back away.

A sound like iron against stone, scratching and scritching and echoing off the cave walls, drew his attention to the darkened opening. At first, there was nothing save for that noise and the ragged breaths of those who had been fighting. Then, the sun glinted off a twin set of eyes far larger than a normal dog’s or even horse’s. The duo slithered scraped forward into the light, long scarred tails swishing this way and that, knocking over a stray bucket and even causing one of the Suaimhneas to stumble against their force.

“What, in all that is holy, are those?” Arthur demanded as he backed up into a more defensive position.

“Wyvern,” Aglain said. He edged forward slightly to take in the sight for himself. “Vicious beasts and protective of those who hold the spell upon them.”

“Well, we can guess who that would be,” Arthur swallowed. One of the beasts snapped its enormous jaws and Merlin could have sworn his very bones vibrated with the action.

His head was swimming, filled with sylabant hissing and half-formed images of cages and collars and torment. His talisman burned bright, the heat of it singeing even though his armour, or at least it felt that way to him. There was something familiar though, a thread of the known woven in with the chaos.

“How do we defeat them?” Arthur demanded.

“They are extremely difficult to kill simply for their size alone,” Aglain replied. His own hands were raised and Merlin believed the Druid now felt fighting was most definitely an option. “Much like a dragon though, there is a weak spot along their throat where their jaw meets their neck.”

Merlin’s head whipped around at that, pieces falling into place. Arthur continued on about how wonderfully easy it should all be in a sarcastic tone while he, James, and Lancelot fanned out in preparation of the attack, but Merlin had to ask, “Are they related to the dragons?”

Aglain nodded. “Of course. Distant cousins, but they are of the same species.”

“What is it, Merlin?” Morgana asked, her own sword at the ready and curiosity piqued.

“Does the name Balinor mean anything to you?” Merlin swallowed, fighting the fear and panic building in his chest.

“Yes,” she confirmed, though clearly not seeing the point if the expression on her face was anything to go by. “He was one of the Dragonlords loyal to Camelot. He and several others were taken by Cenred, tortured and then killed when they refused to do his bidding. So very few of their kind remain, if any at all.” She paused and her green eyes narrowed in Merlin’s direction. “Why, what was he to you?”

“Dead,” Arthur replied sullenly, but his words were drowned out by Merlin’s admission of, “He was my father.”

Arthur whipped around at that, so very many emotions playing across his features. Disbelief, sorrow, and even a hint of betrayal warred for dominance before he grunted, “And you couldn’t tell me this at the time?”

Merlin did not have time to deal with Arthur’s pending temper tantrum, or even Morgana’s verbose and varied profanity, as the wyverns chose that moment to attack. Jaws open, wings outspread, they leapt more than flew towards the gathered group. A tail knocked James back, and Lancelot stood over him while he regained his footing, both keeping their swords drawn and tracking the beasts’ every movement.

Merlin took a deep breath and could feel the magic flow within him, pushing the chaos into form until he roared with a language he barely understood. “Dragons! What are you doing? What have you become?” he shouted, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

“Our masters ordered us such,” the one on the left hissed in response. Merlin noticed the slight pause though, the way it hung back slightly and did not continue its attack.

“And why are they your masters?” he asked. “They keep you caged, harm you until you do their bidding. Why would you obey such a master when given the chance to be set free?” The images came to his mind as though he had seen them himself, and he knew they were true.

“He is a Dragonlord,” the one on the right replied, voice like grinding metal. “We must do as he commands.”

“Really?” Merlin asked doubtfully. He raised his eyebrows and knew he was slipping from the voice of control. “So am I, and I order you to stop.”

Both wyverns paused at that, unmoving save for their tails swishing behind them.

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and wondered if this might just work. Right up until the man with the scar began to shout.

“What is he saying?” Arthur demanded, but Merlin had no chance to respond. The voice was loud and as commanding in his own head as he knew it must have been for the wyverns. He was ordered them to attack again, threatened them with dire retribution should they refuse.

The beasts approached again, but seemed almost torn between doing what their master said versus what Merlin requested. Merlin tried again and again, fearing from the hesitation of the one on the left that the situation was about to devolve into one beast against the other, the gathered humans casualties of their fight.

The man with the scar growled something new, and the next thing Merlin knew he was being tossed to the forest floor, a heaving Arthur on top of him, the metal of his armour cutting painfully into his skin. It was no beast that had attacked though, but one of the Suaimhneas. They had apparently finally figured out he was what was stopping their little pets from destroying their enemy.

Arthur dragged Merlin back upright and put himself between the lone man who approached and the wyverns that circled back around now that they no longer had Merlin telling them not to. “Can you protect him?” Arthur demanded. It took Merlin a moment to realise he spoke to Morgana. It took him a moment more to realise she was nodded in assent.

“I believe so,” she told him. She sheathed her sword and held up her arms, and soon sparks and light arced between her fingertips.

Merlin turned to see Aglain pushing forth a ball of gold that spread and grew to nearly encompass him, to form a moveable ward or shield of some sort. It was enough to surround Merlin, with both himself and Morgana tucked up against the edges.

Arthur turned to Lancelot and Gwen and ordered, “Protect them, we’ll go after their gamekeeper.” He motioned to James who stepped readily forward, only to dodge the jaws and claws of the beasts Merlin did not yet have back under his control.

Merlin began again, coaxing, luring, stressing how he was simply asking the animals not to continue their attack in contrast to the man who threatened them. He saw images of how they were harmed, beaten into submission, caged and starved until they fully bent to that man’s will, how they were ordered to kill the people who had previously fed them, rip them apart and menace their families. He made promises that he hoped were not idle, that he would never request such things from them, that he only wanted them to stop hurting people, stop hurting his friends, and that they would try their very best to set things right again.

He felt their indecision like a pressure within his mind, the other man’s voice still echoing, still commanding. He drew down as deep as he could and tried to remember everything the dragon taught him, everything his father never said, everything he had the potential to be, and shouted a single word: “Stop!”

When he could breathe again, that word still reverberated in his mind, in his ears, and seemingly in his very bones. The wyverns were frozen in place, looking more like statues than living beings. James picked himself up with Arthur’s help, and the two of them charged at the Suaimhneas, Aglain and Morgana adding their magic to break any shields put up by their floundering sorcerers, until the scarred Dragonlord was held at the tip of Arthur’s sword, back against stone and vine.

“Kill him!” the Dragonlord demanded, but he had slipped from the voice that commanded the beasts and back into his frantic own. Two men surged forward, and two men fell to the ground under Gwen and Lancelot’s blades.

“You have not won,” the man seethed.

“Really?” Arthur asked, the tip of his sword just barely breaking the tender skin at the base of the man’s throat. “Because it truly seems as though we have.”

The man lurched, hand flailing for something at his belt, but before James could even shout a warning and long before the hidden knife was any sort of threat to Arthur, the prince pressed forward and ended it once and for all.

Merlin’s shoulders sagged with relief. The shield still glowed bright around him, and the remaining Suaimhneas looked as though they were debating the benefits of staying to fight or running away to regroup later. “You’re free,” he told the wyvern.

The beasts looked at him in what could only be a questioning manner, then to each other. He could pick up parts of their thoughts, parts of their shared conversations, images of their love and bonding with one another, images of everything they had gone through. “We bend to your will, Dragonlord,” the first one told him. It slithered slightly into a near bow and its mate followed suit.

“My will is that you be free,” Merlin replied, hoping that he was not making a drastic mistake.

There were more of the images, this time they included deep cuts that dripped dark ichors from a scaled side and was boiled and burned to create a green sludge. These were followed by the images of another wyvern, far smaller than the other two, the way it curled up and whimpered while the others thrashed in their cages, and then that same wyvern laying lifeless, eyes staring into the darkness but seeing nothing. Merlin knew at that moment exactly what he would find should he search the cave, just as he knew he never wished to do so.

“Are we free to seek our vengeance?” the second wyvern asked. The cloaks of the Suaimhneas were the only thing that filled his vision now.

“You are free,” Merlin promised.

He was not surprised when the beasts turned at that, nor was he surprised by the resulting screams as the remaining Suaimhneas attempted to flee, including several more that had stayed within the sanctuary of the cave up until this point.

He did not remember much after that, just how his knees somehow hit the ground and armoured arms supported him and tried to position him more comfortably. He opened his eyes to see steel met with steel so very near him, and then a clawed paw taking the source of one of those steels away.

He thought he only blinked, but Arthur was suddenly over him, gloved hand resting upon his cheek. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” Arthur asked, and Merlin was not certain how to respond.

It turned out that he did not need to as Aglain spoke for him. He explained how the fight took so much out of him, but that he only needed to rest and he should be fine. Merlin thought that made sense and, with his heavy limbs pulling him down, so no reason why he could not do so right then and there.

Aglain’s voice chuckled within his mind. “ _You have yet another task before you rest, young Dragonlord,_ ” he warned.

Merlin knew what that was just as much as he knew the older sorcerer was probably lying and that they would make him travel all the way back to the castle before he could sleep. Thankfully, this one was far easier and involved as set or much calmer, much sated, wyverns. Promises made and as much of an order as he dared given, he let his eyes drift shut and the world around him fade away.

As expected, he awoke before long, the thunder of footfalls drawing him out of slumber as much as Arthur’s soft touch at his brow. “Come on,” Arthur urged. “Let’s get you up before you get trampled.”

Merlin blinked to clear his vision and found Arain had returned with reinforcements. Those reinforcements immediately headed for the cave upon Morgana’s orders, which at least meant he did not have to. There was no sign of the wyverns, but that did not fully surprise him. He had promised them their freedom, so who was he to question them taking it? What did surprise him was the fact he had apparently been moved once already in his sleep. He now lay near a shady copse of trees, something at least remotely soft and warm beneath his head.

He turned his head to find fabric, and traced that fabric up to chain mail up to Arthur’s amused face. “Interesting pillow,” he managed, wondering why his voice sounded off to his own ears.

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, but the tips of his ear seemed to change to the slightest hue of pink. “Well, you did not complain at the time,” he said gruffly.

He pushed at Merlin to get him up and into a sitting position, but Merlin fought it for only the briefest of moments to say, “No, I did not. Thank you.”

The pink turned a slightly darker hue and a waterskin was shoved roughly into his hands. “You sound awful,” Arthur complained. “I think those wyverns themselves sounded better than you do right now.”

Merlin let the words roll off him and the water roll down his parched throat. He could only imagine the coarseness was from speaking the language of the dragons and their kind, and was not sure what else to do about it save for drink and rest as much as he could. This plan also had the added benefit of putting off the no doubt waiting discussion with Arthur regarding Balinor and his heritage, as well as what other things Merlin could do besides order large scaly animals about.

Soon enough he was pulled to his feet, though Arthur remained by his side as he wavered and yawned. They trudged the path back to the portal, which was as small as ever and guarded by two of Morgana’s men, and then back further to the waiting horses. He climbed aboard and wondered if he could fall asleep in the saddle, or if that would be frowned upon. When Arthur knowingly took his reins, he figured it was more expected than not and went about seeing if it was even possible.

The ride to the castle was thankfully uneventful, and Merlin even managed to remember most of it. At least he thought he did though it was entirely possible that he just had incredibly boring dreams. He was not allowed to go straight to sleep, however, as the entire party was required to check in with the king and queen.

Aglain and he tried their best to explain about the wyverns. Aglain went on about how they were the source of the poison and, without their assistance, the chances of producing such a deadly toxin were near nonexistent. It was entirely possible that Cenred and his men, on both sides, had a cache of the poison, however, so future vigilance was warranted.

Merlin then had the difficult task of explaining that the wyverns were no longer a threat. He also added that they may, in truth, be an asset as he asked them to look after the portal and to make sure that no unauthorised people crossed over, and that the authorised people would be marked by the colours of Camelot and the word of Morgana alone.

“How can you be certain they will fulfil such an order?” Uther asked doubtingly.

Merlin shrugged, feeling the day’s battle in every muscle and bone that protested the action. “Because I asked,” he said simply, not knowing what else to say.

His quiet confidence was apparently enough for Uther, who sent them on their way. He did not doubt that more than a single guard would be assigned watch of that area, just as he did not doubt a similar watch would be placed upon their own lands. He just had no idea how they were going to manage that without the mention of copious use of magic to his version of Uther, who he feared would be far less understanding.

Ygraine stopped him as he left, the doors to the Council room still open. He could see Arthur await him outside, still ill at ease in front of the woman who could have been his mother. “Something troubles you,” Ygraine guessed.

Merlin knew there was no point in hiding it, so he nodded and admitted, “Yes, there is.”

“Is it the explanation of your magic to one raised to fear it?” she supposed, and he knew there was no way he should ever expect to hide anything from anyone with the name Pendragon.

“He could kill me for treason to the crown or, worse, send me away, banish me from Camelot,” Merlin admitted. “If his father discovered what I am, who I am, I would be as good as dead.” His voice was tinged with fear, though he knew it was only a shadow of what he felt churn inside him. So much could be lost, and he had no idea how he could cope with it should the worst come to light.

“Surely he would not betray you – you saved his life. To save a life is a bond of trust that must never be questioned,” Ygraine said, aghast.

Merlin looked longingly to where Arthur waited, and said, “I can’t put him in that position, me against his father, against everything he was taught?”

“But he has discovered that what he was taught was lies,” Ygraine pointed out. Merlin wanted to hope that would be enough, but could not be certain. Something must have shown on his face as she bent near and placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. “If it comes down to it, you will always have a place here. We would welcome you with open arms,” she whispered.

“I know you would,” Merlin told her, even though he knew it would tear him to pieces to accept such an offer.

They said their goodbyes, at least for the evening, and she pressed a scrap of parchment into his hands. He read it quickly and realised it was a transportation spell of his own, penned in Morgana’s distinctive penmanship, that would take him from wherever he may be to the portal within the castle.

He understood her meaning: no matter where he was, there would always be a way to safety.

He nodded his thanks and joined Arthur in the hallway. “Will you stay?” Arthur asked quietly while they walked. A guard followed them, but gave them their peace.

“Tonight? Yes,” Merlin yawned. “There is no telling what time it is on the other side and I for one do not need to be fetching your dinner or drawing your bath as exhausted as I am right now.”

Arthur chuckled and led him to the armoury, where he helped strip him of the hauberk and weaponry. His own fingers fumbled with the buckles on Arthur’s armour until they were swatted away and one of the pages did it instead. Free of gear, they made their way back to their rooms to find heated baths and steaming plates of food awaiting them.

Merlin was torn between the three choices laid before him as the bed looked so soft and inviting, but Arthur solved at least one of the problems and dragged two chairs next to the baths and placed the plates of food upon them. He tugged on the laces of Merlin’s tunic and carefully tucked the talisman beneath it before he pulled the fabric up and over Merlin’s head and tossed it to the side. His gaze lingered on the thin red line that still marred the pale skin, and his fingertips reached out to trace it, seemingly of their own accord.

Reluctantly, Arthur raised his gaze to meet Merlin’s questioning own and, in a voice that reminded Merlin that the man before him would some day become the great king of Camelot and possibly so much more, promised, “I will never betray you.”

Merlin placed his own chilled hand above Arthur’s warmed one and whispered, “I know.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew them to be true.

Later, after warm baths and warm wine, after sinking deep beneath the water only to be poked and prodded until he rose again with a sheepish grin, after the plates were cleared and very little of the detritus remained, Merlin finally climbed under the heavy blankets and rest his head atop soft down. When Arthur closed the tiny distance behind him and pulled him close, he did not resist, nor was he surprised.

The next morning, Morgana stopped him when they returned to the portal room. Arthur was clad again in his practice gear, but Merlin’s tattered tunic once again had disappeared without a trace and so he wore the simplest of the ones this realm had on offer. She handed Arthur a parcel that Merlin was fairly certain held a distinctive goget and pauldron, and handed Merlin a bundle of cloth that was likely the equivalent of a clothing allowance for the year back home. “You do not need to go,” she told him.

Merlin looked to the portal and thought of the realm it led to, a land where his kind suffered and where he lived in near squalor compared to the riches of this side. He thought of how it was his destiny to change that, to endure a fair amount of pain and hardship as he attempted to coax the future king away from the ways of the old. He thought of how it would not be easy, not like a life here with comforts and warmth and respect for just being who he was born to be.

He turned to Morgana and said, “Yes, I do.”

She smiled, knowingly yet chagrined, but was far outshined by the way Arthur beamed at his side. They said their final goodbyes, gave handshakes and hugs as needed, and then turned once more to face the shimmering curtain of gold.

“Let’s go home,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin took the offered hand and held tight as they stepped back through to destiny.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Honour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/295475) by [cat_77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77)




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